Apocalyptic Alchemist
by SacredDarkAngel
Summary: It feels like the final moments of their lives, with Castiel, or God as he calls himself, issuing a threat to their destruction...only to find themselves in a different world only a moment later...A world of alchemy...and infinite possibilities.
1. Strangers In The Dark

If there was one thing Sam Winchester had grown accustomed to in all his years of fighting the creatures of the night; it was the efficiency of running.

Whether it concerned them escaping from a ferocious werewolf or only just dodging the clutches of a blood-thirsty vampire neither Sam nor Dean found running to be the equivalent of a foreign language. Were language a compatible analogy, they were fluent linguist at that.

Tonight's events were no different than any other hunt they'd pursued.

The only difference…..what they were facing was more fierce and cunning than what either Winchester was familiar with. With abnormal strength unlikely of a typical human, and speed that matched a Wendigo's pace. This was something else indeed.

"Sam!"

He heard his brother's voice from somewhere in the darkness, terror-stricken and muffled, but Sam was too busy focusing on the monster that maintained pace while it tailed him through the cavernous sewers of Central. He could hear his blood pulsing, his arms pumping in time with the gait of his running, causing the light of his flashlight to dance about from one damp and dirty spot to the next, barely lighting his path with its seizure-like movements.

The thing behind him was quick for all of its monstrous size, something Sam was made well aware of with its ability to move at such a rapid pace without stopping. Back during its initial attack he'd barely caught a glimpse of a massive shape that was short and stout before firing off a couple of shots only to realize how useless that was for the thing had kept coming. In the split second he'd come to this conclusion, the two brothers had made the rhetorically mutual decision to make a run for it instead of facing this creature head on. Without the right weaponry, and add on the fact they were clueless in regards to what they were facing, neither stood a fool's chance.

Sam wasn't sure what had become of Dean, but he couldn't allow his worry to overshadow his common sense, which was screaming at him to keep moving and find someplace safe. They'd gotten separated at some point, unknowing that a danger such as the very thing that pursued him would be lurking in such a place. They'd received an eye-opener tonight for sure.

Whatever it was, it found the situation humorous for Sam could hear a series of short-lived maniacal giggles from behind. Random spurts of whooshing noises followed by muffled thudding sounds made evident that the thing was dancing about as well as giving chase. Sam could hear it jumping from wall to wall every now and then in between it's dashing along the corridor. Once or twice he was certain the thing was right behind him, breathing down his neck, but Sam wasn't sure if that had been true or the result of his current state of minute paranoia.

A shot rang out. Then another, and another at which point a bullet whizzed past Sam's ear, but in the next instant he heard the sound of someone being startled followed by a ferocious bellow of pain. There was a series of grunting noises, and what sounded like something heavy falling to the ground. Sam didn't need to turn back to know that whoever had fired off those shots, he assumed it was Dean, had thrown the monster off its course for the rapid shuffling of feet pounding behind him was gone and in the next instant…Sam was alone in the darkness. With only the beam of his flashlight to keep him company.

He slowed down, coming to a complete stop once he realized his pursuer was absent now, and Sam was left standing in a pitch black world that his flashlight fought to penetrate. Trying to catch his breath, he whirled around gun raised and flashlight following his aim as he studied his shady surroundings. The only thing to behold in a place like this was the musty smell of city water prior to being cleaned and the occasional rat family braving wayward strangers in search of food. No sign of his monster enemy, not even a whisper of movement. And Dean was nowhere to be seen, which only increased Sam's worry to an even more elevated degree. The only explanation for that had to be that something had happened to him, and now Sam had to backtrack and find his brother or he was sure to lose him.

Slowly turning about, he faced the direction from whence he came, flashlight trained on the path before him, his only guide in the darkness. Moving carefully Sam crept forward, his movements slow and calculated so as not to make too much noise. The only sounds to be heard were his rapid heartbeat, the quick inhale-exhale of his breathing, and the steady drip-drip-dripping sound of water somewhere nearby. It felt like ages before he'd made it ten feet or so from his former location, and still nothing to be seen or heard other than the typical sounds of "sewer life". Uncertain of what else to do, Sam thought it only necessary to call out for his brother.

"Dean!"

In the distance he could hear the faint echo of _Dean, Dean, Dean_, but his call went unanswered, leaving Sam to assume only the worst….whatever had attacked him had obviously gone after Dean… and was more than likely waiting in the shadows to capture Sam as well.

If it came down to a question of loyalty, of whether or not he'd risk his own life to venture forth and rescue his brother, there was no doubting his decision to brave whatever lay before him. Never in the past had it mattered what he were to be facing, the risks meant nothing if the life of his brother was hanging in the balance. This time was no different, he'd take his chances with the dark, with the impeccable speed of that nameless creature…for Dean.

Because family looked after family….no matter what. Bobby hadn't spent the last few years hounding that lesson into their brains only for it to have been in vain.

Walking more briskly now, and with less stealth, Sam strode forward with every intention of battling whatever beast was lying in wait for his approach. He maintained a cautionary aura, keeping in mind to play it smart when dealing with a faceless enemy he knew nothing about. Continuing forward, Sam pressed on, wading through the darkness for several moments, his anxiety increasing for every second his searching turned up with no sign of his opponent or his brother.

"You are either very brave…..or very foolish to wander this way."

Sam spun around, aiming both gun and flashlight in all directions searching for the source of the voice. It sounded like a woman had spoken, her tone sounded intrigued but with a hint of annoyance, as though his very presence here had caused her distress. Was _this_ the monster that had been chasing him through the sewers?

"You humans never cease to amaze me, predictable as you are…"

Sam continued turning about but his meandering eyes couldn't turn up anything.

"…..but you hunters on the other hand…you are _truly_ something else."

What the Hell did _that_ mean? And where the Hell _was_ this woman? Even with the aid of the flashlight Sam couldn't _see_ her. Her voice was like a lifeline at the moment for he clung to her every word, wondering if he could figure her out. Her voice was smooth and seductive, and Sam wondered vaguely if her form was as equally sensual, if the profile fit.

"Don't exert yourself too much; I'm certain the strain isn't good for your sensitive eyes."

"So you can see me?" Sam retorted, making certain to keep his voice calm and even. He didn't want her reading anything into his voice…..if he could help it. His only option currently, was to keep her talking, for he was at a disadvantage if she could see him but he virtually was blind.

"Perceptive aren't you?" he could practically hear the laughter in her tone. She was finding his misgivings amusing.

Abandoning his efforts with the flashlight, though making sure to keep his gun at the ready, Sam continued staring into the shadows. "Who are you?...Or should I say _what_?", he retorted in a cynical tone.

This time her laughter was aloud, "That's a tad bit rude don't you think? I do believe it's customary for humans to retain some level of tact."

"Sorry. Fresh out," Sam shot back, his uneasiness being swiftly replaced with anger. "And I don't plan on restocking."

She laughed again, obviously finding hit brazenness entertaining. Sam was finding the noise was beginning to grate on his nerves. "So what then?" he challenged, "Are you going to kill me?...Or are we going to continue hanging around here in the dark trading snarky banter?"

A short-live silence ensued, leaving Sam to wonder if she'd disappeared somewhere. But the quiet was quickly bunged when she spoke again. "Are you going to just stand there feigning an aura of machismo? Or do you plan to use that gun of yours any time soon?"

Sam wanted to keep her occupied, making it less than likely she'd attack again, but his worry was escalating more rapidly with the knowledge that he still needed to find Dean….wherever he was.

"Nevertheless any gallantry you present from this moment on will be useless," she purred.

There was the unmistakable sounding of a thud nearby. Not wanting to appear frightened, Sam deterred from addressing it vocally, continuing instead with his former plan to keep her talking.

"What do you mean?"

"It's quite simple really…..I have no intention of letting you escape from here tonight…."

_Thud._

"Although…..you could prove to be of some use…."

_Thud. Thud._

"How so?" Sam queried, keeping his hearing trained on the noise…it seemed to be coming from somewhere close by.

"Enough talking. You are in no position to be asking questions here."

_Thud. Thud._

"And if I don't continue to play your little game?" He shot back. The sound was even closer.

She laughed again, "There's nothing left to discuss…..in a few seconds this conversation will cease to hold any value."

Sam suddenly became very aware of heavy breathing, and what sounded like a slight growling sound that accompanied the thudding noises he'd been hearing. In the midst of the darkness, he could hear a croaky, breathy voice utter, "Oh is that him?" It sounded like a man…..a strange man.

"Yes that's him," he heard the woman reply. "And with that Hunter, here is our goodbye."

Slightly perplexed Sam barely had the chance to utter "Wha-?" before something heavy and smothering slammed flat against his back. Startled, he whirled the flashlight around to catch a glimpse of his attacker, but the beam was cut off with a definitive whack against his right wrist. Pain shot up through his arm and to the tips of his fingers, he cried out and stumbled, gun and flashlight flying out of his hand and landing somewhere nearby. The fall must've jarred the flashlight severely for the light flickered and was instantly gone. The gun landed with a deafening crack against the asphalt, while Sam struggled to right himself before he too could make contact with the ground. Gentle prodding of his arm left Sam certain that the bone was broken, and a new wave of pain rocketed through his right limb and as he attempted to assess the extent of the damage.

His opponent however was not of a very giving nature as to allow Sam a moment of pause, for he ruthlessly made a grab for Sam's neck with both hands and squeezed hard whilst hoisting him off the ground, leaving his feet to dangle. Sam couldn't see the monster's face, and his eyes were beginning to glaze over with the constant lack of oxygen to his brain. He struggled against his captor, hands grasping helplessly at the pudgy fingers wrapped around his throat, but to no avail. Sam was beginning to feel light headed, and his feet kicked aimlessly but made no contact with anything.

"Can I now? Can I?" it asked the woman in that same croaky sounding voice, his tone expressing utter delight at having caught his prey. His breath smelled of something sinister and utterly foul, and for a split second Sam was glad he couldn't breathe for that stench could certainly kill a vulture.

"Yes, yes you may," she replied in a sweet voice, seeming to be the massive creature's maternal influence with how she spoke to him. "But try not to make a mess".

_Try not to what?_

The creature giggled, and Sam realized that his pursuer from before had not been the woman…but this _thing_. He had that same maniacal giggle, and come to think of it his breathing and hulky form were similar as well.

The creature shifted his grasp from Sam's neck to his head, and instantly he felt the sweet relief of air returning to his lungs. But the small victory was short-lived as the thing brought Sam's fact closer to its own, and its foul breath stung the hairs in Sam's nose and made him feel nauseous. Suddenly its eyes went from being practically nonexistent to a couple of rounded beams of red light, and in the pale glow of it Sam could see what appeared to be an obscenely fat nose in the midst of a largely rounded face. Its mouth was visible and the sneering smile it sported mimicked that of the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland_.

But what caught Sam's attention the most was the thing's _tongue._ It was larger than anything he'd ever seen before….and Sam had seen a lot. The slippery bit of muscle wriggled and stretched to lather against Sam's face, making him gag and nearly vomit. Then the creature stretched out its tongue even further, and Sam caught a glimpse of what looked like some king of marking.

It appeared to be a winged snake eating its own tail. An Ouroboros tattoo.


	2. An Angelic Ultimatum

_Some time ago…._

"So you will bow down, and profess your love onto me, your Lord...or I shall destroy you."

Castiel was staring at the ceiling as he uttered that startling threat, an expectant look on his face as though it were that simple, for them to drop everything, every value and morale they'd ever had, and worship him just like that.

_He's lost it_, Sam thought, paranoia sinking in like an icy chill creeping down his spine. His mind began reeling, more so than it had been an hour or so ago now that his memories were back, but nothing came to mind of what they could do. This was beyond anything they'd ever faced before, even more terrible and frightening than Lucifer had been during his short "reign" among the earth.

There was no denying it, no sense in feigning a strong sense of masculinity for the sake of preserving his pride or appear unhindered. Sam was terrified by what he saw before him, and judging from the expressions on both Dean and Bobby's faces, the feeling was entirely mutual. Castiel had "gone off the deep end" as it were, and was running on a power-trip that far surpassed that of any angel or demon, or even an archangel at that, and Sam had witnessed Lucifer's power first-hand, knew just how terrible his power could be in the name of his wrath. He'd splattered Castiel's body across a field with a simple snap of his fingers, and Sam had felt every ounce of juice that had gone into that maneuver, that had been enough to reassure him of an archangel's capabilities when provoked.

This time, the power was magnified, and it wasn't an angel they were dealing with, but a God. The _new_ God as he'd referred to himself, and Sam could only guess what his idea of "destroy" meant. Vaguely, he imagined that Castiel would resort to the same punishment he dealt Rafael as a way of disciplining the three of them for their lack of cooperation. Sam wasn't too fond of the idea that his body might be splattered in a manner that mimicked Castiel's own spontaneous angelic combustion only two years before, but the threat was there nonetheless. They might as well be standing in a minefield right now considering how delicate the situation was, and that at any given moment one wrong move could blow them all away…..quite literally.

"Cas….please…." Dean began, his voice cracking with effort to remain calm but Sam could practically _feel_ the torment raging inside him. He felt it too, though for him it was amplified due to The Great Wall of Sam having been ripped down, and the haunting memories of the last two years had come rushing back like a raging tsunami. Wincing visibly Sam attempted to ignore the echoing screams in his mind and the unbearable urge to collapse for he felt his very insides were trying to rip apart, and his head was splitting in two. Now was not the time to become the drooling twitchy mess he'd feared he'd become when the Wall finally came down. He needed to focus.

"Cas come on…" Dean continued, choosing his words carefully for fear of Castiel's wrath. "You know us okay? You know _me_ right? We're only trying to look out for you just like you were always looking out for us. Don't let this turn you into something you're not Cas…let it go…..please…"

Castiel slowly descended his gaze from the ceiling to look at Dean with a mixture of nonchalance and satisfaction, the aura of satisfactory in his demeanor being the more terrifying above anything else. He looked too damned cheerful at the moment, in his own typically-stoic way, and smugly so at that, it was unnerving to see him this way considering the state of things.

"Dean," his voice was as it had always been these last few years, unrevealing of any emotion to a point where it sounded almost robotic, save for the rare occasion where he'd revealed a hint of feeling. "You are…like a soldier Dean…..Loyal, strong, cooperative until your superior 'crosses the line' as you have deemed my actions, but the moment an entity whose rank overpowers you commands your submission….you buckle…out of fear. You fear me now Dean, because I am no longer the 'tag-along' angel that followed you with barely a question…..I am no longer the angel who came at your every beck and call only to be shelved just as swiftly the moment my aid was no longer of use to you….Those days are over Dean….A new order has come…And you will either follow me…or suffer for your prideful ways."

Whatever color had flooded Dean's cheeks for his "audacious" comment was instantly depleted and his face blanched noticeably, but he didn't break eye-contact with Castiel, attempting despondently to keep his gaze on the "God" steady, but his fear was evident. Sam didn't know if he could've managed to utter a single syllable at the moment much less an entire sentence or two, and he was certain that Bobby must be feeling the same way for the older man had yet to voice his concerns at the moment, and Sam didn't blame him. If anyone could reach Cas, even in this state, it was Dean. Cas had always listened to Dean in the past, or the very least attempted to heed the hunter's advice.

Only this time he'd gone a little _too_ far in following Dean's footsteps…..and look at how thing's had turned out. Not that Sam blamed Dean for this, he couldn't have prevented Castiel from opening the door to Purgatory even more than he could've stopped Sam from opening the door and setting Lucifer free three years ago.

_So this is what it feels like_, Sam thought whilst fighting a sudden urge to chuckle as the irony of their situation finally dawned on him. He pictured them three years ago, Lilith lain before him at the ready to receive the fatal blow he'd worked hard for two years to deal. Ruby at his side, encouraging him to continue with their plan, to ignore the muffled calls of his brother from just beyond the closed double doors, unknowing of her deceitful ways in regards to their plans to kill Lilith. The shamefulness and sheer dread he'd felt upon realizing exactly what he'd done, and that it was all his fault, the apocalypse could've been prevented if only he'd listened to his brother. But he hadn't, and the consequences had been beyond severe.

As they were now.

Only this time it wasn't him that had "gone off the map", but Cas. And here Sam stood, finally understanding the struggle his brother had undergone years ago, wanting to stop a family member from doing the wrong thing, uncertain of what moves to make for fear that said member would only be pushed away. Then to have the whole concoction blow up in your face anyway.

If there was Hell on earth, it didn't consist of demons versus angels. No it was of family, and the unending struggle to keep someone you love from falling into a dark abyss of self-destruction. Sam's inner turmoil threatened to break him once again with this newly gained epiphany, but he fought against it.

"Your silence is reassuring of your choice," Castiel interrupted Sam's whirlwind of thinking to take a step towards Dean, who blatantly flinched at the nearness of their new threat. Castiel made no move to hurt Dean, but then again he didn't need to, his previous display of the extent of his power was proof that he needn't lift a single finger to kill them. Sam braced himself, waiting for the moment when Cas would strike.

However Castiel soon switched his focus from his "once-faithful" friend…to Sam, whose initial urge was to flee, but where could he run to that Cas wouldn't find him? And what would become of Dean and Bobby if he left them hanging? No matter the choice he made he would die, and so would the other two. He chose instead to simply stand there, fingers tightening involuntarily around the angel blade he was holding, which was useless now.

Castiel moved forward just then, closing the distance between himself and Sam until they were face-to-face. Sam's six-foot-four height, aside from the physical advantage it gave him in most circumstances, was useless against Castiel's "soul power". Right this very moment he felt about four inches tall, which was strange for him but then again it could almost be considered comical given that Castiel was shorter than him and yet it was the "new God" that made this tall hunter tremble in fear. Sam thought randomly that he just might laugh about this later on, after the chaos had settled and everything was okay again, if by some miracle they managed to escape that is, but just now it wasn't very funny, not when at any given second Cas was going to smite him off the face of the earth.

"I gave you the second chance you earned solely upon your sacrifice Sam," Castiel spoke again, his expression lacking the previous smug and was now blank, almost cold. "You are to receive gratitude for the toll you paid for imprisoning Lucifer, a gratitude I presented upon returning you to this earth…though not without a slight failure."

If Castiel had truly been grateful for Sam's efforts it was impossible to tell what with his monotone voice and bleak expression. He hadn't _asked_ to be brought back, had specifically requested that he _not_ be resurrected once the cage was shut simply because it would be too risky. What if his release warranted Lucifer's freedom? Castiel's "gratefulness" was uncalled for in Sam's opinion, though not entirely unappreciated. But still, what did any of this have to do with their current situation? What game was Cas playing?

"However," Cas went on as though he hadn't the slightest idea of what Sam must be thinking, "considering your actions upon your use of that angel blade I feel far from grateful, as I'm sure you can understand."

_What the Hell was he going on about?_

"Therefore, it is only fitting…upon your attempt to take my life from me….that I relieve you of something you value….something your mundane ideology has deemed…..precious."

_Precious? What the Hell did he mean by that?_

Sam's eyes darted over to Dean, and a sudden cold swept over him as he contemplated what Castiel could mean by those words. The only "precious thing" Sam could think of that would be worthy of retribution in Castiel's view would be to kill Dean…and force Sam to watch in helpless horror. That was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that was certain to cripple Sam in such a manner that he was certain to succumb to total distraught. Castiel would be certain to find his revenge in Sam's pain…but why _Dean_? His brother had been nothing but supportive of Castiel over the last few years. Sure there had been times when their friendship had been strained, when Castiel had betrayed them on behalf of the celestial forces' master plan, but even then Dean still had held sense of loyalty to Cas.

Which obviously didn't matter now, if killing Dean was indeed Cas' plan.

"I require your soul Sam…right now."

So killing Dean _wasn't_ on his agenda after all….wait….

"My….soul?" He could barely form the words much less wrap his head around it. His soul? What could Castiel possibly want with his soul?

"Though I have consumed many….and the power they give me is fulfilling enough….one more soul could only add to my advantage…..even if it has been torn."

It seemed only yesterday when he'd awoken to find himself in the panic room, lying in the same cot he'd occupied before, and wondering exactly what he'd done to end up there. In the past it had to do with his addiction to demon-blood, and the havoc it would wreak on either his physical aspects or unsuspecting victims that stood in his way when he was on a mission that ultimately involved Lilith.

During the first moments after his initial awakening he'd spent time contemplating, thoroughly, all the things he could remember post-Archangel Smackdown…but he'd come up with nothing. Just an endless void of confusion and the underlying sensation of having done something wrong…but he hadn't known what. Only to find out that he'd spent a better part of the last couple of years walking around without a soul…and without a care in the world outside his own personal need. He hadn't realized the extent of his sinister deeds whilst soulless until his memories had come flooding back, and the realization of what he'd done had been bad enough to break him apart…almost literally.

And now to have the threat of becoming soulless again….it was more than Sam could bear at the moment. He didn't want to be like that again, to become that _person_ again.

Before he could contemplate further of what kind of future he would have without his soul, (there wasn't much to contemplate, he knew what his soulless self was capable of) Castiel had made a move and in the next instant Sam found himself against the nearest wall, with Cas' hand wrapped around his throat, and that cold blank stare now turned sinister.

"Sam!" He heard Dean call out but made no move to reprimand Cas, it would only make things worse if they provoked him further. He and Bobby could only stand and watch as Castiel made to rip out Sam's soul, who appeared to not have heard them.

"This will hurt momentarily…but in the end it wont matter."

It won't matter? This sudden change in Cas had Sam's head spinning. Not that he'd never witnessed the extent of Castiel's wrathful side first hand, but rather he'd never expected he could be this…sadistic was the best word for it. Sinister and outright uncaring that he'd once been there friend. Their family.

Sam's eyes were locked on Castiel's, blue-green irises focused on his blue ones, it was like a staring contest except that it lacked the trivial nature. It was as though breaking eye-contact meant converting to total submission, and even though Sam was in a helpless situation he wasn't ready to give in. Not completely.

Castiel's free hand went straight for Sam's stomach, instantly pressing inward and erupting the worst pain Sam had ever felt in his life, so much that he had to close his eyes against it. Sam felt as though an entire row of red-hot pokers were being inserted into his lower abdomen, searing his flesh and burning his insides as they went.

He could hear Dean and Bobby screaming his name, but he dared not open his eyes to look at them, it would be too much and the pain was overwhelming enough. There was a bright light that Sam believed must be coming off of Cas, leaving him to assume that it was his soul-power showing by way of emitting him in its glow. It was getting brighter and brighter until he not only sense it all around him, but feel it too as though it were a tangible force. Then just as quickly as it had come, the light went out, evident in the fact that Sam was now staring at darkness on the back of his eyelids. The pain was gone too but it's lingering effects were still in effect; exhaustion and a soreness not of the body but of the mind…and soul perhaps?

"Sammy?" He heard Dean's voice some ways away, faintly almost as if in a dream, and Sam wasn't sure if he were in Heaven or that he'd woken up from some terrible nightmare only to find that the last two years had never occurred. A vision maybe? Was his psychic ability acting up again?

Slowly, he opened his eyes…and was presented the glamorous view of a large city, it's lights penetrating the darkness of the night alongside the bright stars glittering above. There were mountains in the background, their rugged peaks stretching far into the sky as though reaching for something. The city was circular, surrounded by trees and what appeared to be vast fields in the distance.

Sam had no memory of a city like this and, apparently, neither did Dean and Bobby, who Sam came to find, upon his glancing about, had been standing nearby…..and were equally confused about the sudden change of setting.

Neither of them spoke for several moments, allowing each other to take in what had just happened…..or almost happened. At least that's the way it felt in Sam's opinion, but he wasn't sure. Was it possible to physically _feel_ your soul inside you? He felt no different then he had mere moments ago, but that didn't necessarily mean nothing happened…or maybe it did. The silence continued on, only now the trio was staring amongst each other, eyeing each other in order to reassure themselves that they truly were okay….for now.

"So…," Bobby broke the awkward silence by asking the obvious, "anyone have the slightest clue as to our new location?"

Dean, mouth slightly gaped open in a dumbfounded nature, could only shake his head as he went back to scrutinizing the unfamiliar scene before them. Sam reciprocated the movement, adding a shrug for good measure.

Bobby grimaced in reply to their inaudible answers, "Thought so."


	3. You're As Cold As Ice

Whatever had DeLorean'd them into this alternate universe had one strange sense of humor, if one could find the luxury of laughing at this point, for the Winchesters there was no such luxury to be found, not even for Dean who loved to laugh if he thought something was worth laughing over.

For one thing, as far as Sam was concerned, they weren't even in a location that sounded familiar if the title "Amestris" was any indication, which could be found in the headlines of the newspapers Sam had managed to sneak a peak at. From what he could make of the time-frame of their new location, it was at least a century in the past, which put them at quite the disadvantage on more levels than he cared to think about at the moment. But it was difficult to shut out the nagging voice inside his head that constantly reminded him just how screwed they were at this point. His only distraction to this bit of annoyance was to take in his surroundings.

And what a sight it was.

It was like watching an old film, the kind in black and white that shook as the film went through the camera, flickering on the screen, only to take a step forward and find yourself inside the very film itself, with it's aged look and old-timey feel. Sam was in awe of the old-fashioned street-lights (Dean frowned at those), the early-century architectural structure to the buildings giving the streets on which they currently meandered an early 20th century New York look (Dean frowned some more), not to mention the early-model cars, at least 1910-edition (Dean _definitively_ frowned at those).

Sam had been so caught up in staring about his surroundings that he'd barely noticed the other two's reaction at the scene before them. Bobby merely shrugged at Sam's inquiring expression. Dean continuously gaped at everything, his face a fixed look of utter amazement and confusion, most likely due to the shock of having barely escaped Castiel's clutches.

Thoughts about Cas brought Sam back to the issue at hand, and the fact that someone, or some _thing_, must have rescued them before the now-gone-rogue angel had accomplished the task of retrieving Sam's soul. More like that he had attempted to _rip_ it out if the haunting ache in Sam's lower abdomen was any indication, he could still _feel_ the indention of Cas's fingers, as though his hand were still hovering above his stomach…..waiting.

But what had rescued them was a mystery to Sam, however he'd be lying if he said he didn't think it might've possibly been God that had saved their asses once again. He just wish there was some way of finding out but their usual tactics, using the internet or asking Castiel out-right, were out of the question. And they sure as hell couldn't ask Bobby considering the older hunter was stuck right along with them and just as clueless as to their exact whereabouts.

"Okay…", Dean finally found the voice he'd seemingly lost in the last hour or so that it had taken them to walk from the hills they'd found themselves on and eventually into the city. "Obviously this isn't some funky dream…..", he pinched himself as though to prove his point, then moved his hand away just as quickly as though satisfied he'd proven the theory right.

"The question is….." Bobby interjected, his suspicious gaze traveling from one side of the street to the other as they walked along. "Where exactly _are_ we?"

"Amestris is the name of the city from what I could make of those newspaper headlines," Sam replied to Bobby's question, " but I'm not sure where that is exactly. I've never heard of a town named Amestris before."

"Any shot at a library maybe?" Dean offered, visibly more relaxed though Sam was certain his uneasiness was still in place. "I suppose running around and asking people questions will start to look suspicious after a while."

"You think?" Bobby retorted flippantly. "'Oh I'm sorry to bother you ma'am but I happen to be lost, could you tell me if we're still on planet Earth or what?'" he ended the question with a slight bobbing of his head as though to add emphasis to the quip. Sam would've chuckled at Bobby's humor if he wasn't overly concerned as to whether they were still in danger or somewhat safe…..for now.

"Dammit Bobby," Dean hissed back at him, eyes darting around to see if anyone had heard just now. "Keep that shit quiet will you? It's bad enough I feel like we're the punch line to some Doctor Who joke." You could always tell when Dean was feeling more than upset when his jokes were lacking efficiency, plus Sam wasn't too crazy that he'd taken a crack at one of his favorite shows.

"Keep your skirt on you punk, it's not like I _asked_ for us to be here. Just don't lose your head, keep your trap shut for now and we should be fine." He stopped suddenly, surveying what appeared to be a hotel, and a nice one at that. But there was just one problem…..

"Any of you ladies have money on you?" Bobby turned to look at the both of them expectantly, "And by money I mean the paper kind, not plastic."

Sam immediately shook his head, having spent his last bit of cash on a hustle and lost. Dean retrieved his wallet from the back pocket where it usually stayed, but after a moment of rifling through its contents he mimicked Sam's headshake with a defeated expression.

Bobby sighed, opened his mouth to say something, when a series of shouts and a loud whistle echoed through the streets, and Sam could swear he felt a rumble beneath their feet. He looked around, his focus immediately drawn to the series of light-beams that were erupting from the ground, stretching towards the sky in a spiral-like manner. Each beam was crimson, the red glow illuminating the city in it's dim lighting, several of them at once, surrounding the city in a circular fashion. Then the ground rumbled again and Sam was certain it wasn't just a trick of the mind this time.

"What the actual fuck?" Dean responded almost automatically, steadying himself against the sudden shake and looking in all directions at the other passerby's who apparently had felt the same rumble…..and it was growing more fearsome. The red beams of light were overshadowed by the unsteady force emitting from the ground below them, but it was hard not to notice them as the red glow lit up the night sky, nearly blotting out the pale glow of the stars and moon altogether.

"Earthquake?" Bobby commented urgently, his eyes frantically searching for a place to go to get to safety, passing a glance at the beams and coming back again. With no money they would either have to force their way into someone's home or make use of an empty building for now.

"Not sure," Sam answered, his voice beginning to shake a little right along with the shake of the ground. "Let's just get the hell out of here!"

"Get the hell out of here where Sam?" Dean had to raise his voice to be heard over the sudden loudness of the rumble, his green eyes staring wildly at the beams as though he were having flashbacks from when he'd been abducted. "There's nowhere to go!"

"Anywhere is better than here right now Dean!"

"Shut-up you idjits we've got no time for you to start bickering like an old married couple!" Bobby's thunderous retort had both boys snapping their mouths closed in an instant, and the rumble just kept going, louder and stronger it grew until not only the ground was shaking but everything on it as well. Cars were skidding across the pavement, park benches were jumping against the iron fence surrounding the park, civilians were scurrying about seeking shelter and a few amongst them, Sam noticed, happened to be what he could only guess were military officials.

Two officers started shouting and running, one of them pointing furiously at a back alley before backing away. Sam's gaze followed the direction the man was pointing….and froze.

It wasn't an earthquake that was causing all the ruckus, but a giant moving wall of ice that continued to slither in between the buildings, stretching out into the street and freezing everything it touched. More to the point, it seemed as though the ice was _growing _for it stretched further back into the alley and towered above the buildings where it stood betwixt their walls. Men in uniforms, the military men Sam had noticed earlier but had now grown larger in number, were scurrying about firing at the wall, striking it with explosives, anything to break it down and attempt to stop it's course. But every time one of their attacks struck, the moment the ice broke under the force of them all, it seemed to reconstruct…no, _heal _itself…as though it hadn't been attacked at all. Sam had once heard about how ice seemingly almost had a mind of its own, the way it moved across a landscape, as though it thirsted for blood. Thinking about that now sent a creeping chill up his spine, but ice wasn't _alive_, it couldn't be. Yet the way it moved spoke volumes.

"Dammit is that _another one_?" Dean shouted incredulously, his eyes focused on the tops of some buildings in the distance. Sam followed his gaze, and sure enough, another great wall of ice was making it's way through alley after alley, it even went through an entire building, freezing it all the way through as it went.

"_Now_ can we go find somewhere else to be?" Bobby shouted, his fearful gaze intently focused on the walls of ice. "I don't care if we have to go into the sewers and hide out like a bunch of pansies! Anywhere but here!"

Sam couldn't agree more, but a quick sweep of his gaze across the street showed no signs of a way to get down below. What the hell were they going to do? His gaze darting around helplessly, Sam spotted one alley that looked deserted, no ice-wall anywhere near it, so it seemed safe enough…for now.

"THIS WAY!"

Making a run for it, he headed straight for the alley, putting as much distance between himself and the icy Hell (how screwed up was that logic?) as possible. One quick glance behind him showed that Dean and Bobby were right on his heels, with Bobby slightly dragging behind to which Sam couldn't blame him. He wasn't exactly in his prime for this sort of thing, but there was no time to allow him the privilege of his own pace.

Darting into the shadows of the alley, Sam made a dead-on sprint to the other end, but was suddenly brought up short by a shady figure standing before him. Dean and Bobby came to a sudden halt just a couple feet behind him, the three of them panting from the effort of the run. As the rumble continued on, and the beams kept up their almost cryptic glow, Sam studied the figure for a brief moment. He was tall, broad-shouldered with long dark hair that was tied back. He had on some kind of cloak, and his right arm had some kind of metallic brace with a strange-looking symbol engraved onto its surface. Even in the dim lighting, Sam could see what appeared to be a military uniform, but the younger Winchester was fairly certain this man wasn't part of the ones attempting to destroy the ice-walls. His instincts were screaming at him to be careful, that this stranger was some kind of threat.

"Hate to say this but I think you're in the wrong place at a _very _bad time," his voice was slightly hoarse, full of cynical humor with a touch of foreboding, enough to make Sam tense even further. What the hell did he want? And what did he mean by all that just now?

"Freezer!" Another voiced sounded off at the other end of the alley, though it sounded lighter and higher-pitched than the military stranger's voice. Sam glanced over the stranger's shoulder and spotted what appeared to be a young boy. He had long blonde hair, was seemingly just above five-feet tall and wore a long red coat, and he was standing next to…..a robot?

"Don't you get it!" The stranger roared back, turning slightly to face the newest addition to the already-occupied back alley, "I'm doing us all a favor! Why can't you just accept that and leave me be!"

"I refuse to sit idly by while you murder innocent people!" The little runt of a kid, surprising the hunter trio with his blatant gallantry, strode forward as though he were invincible. The robot, or whatever it was, moved alongside it's smaller companion, its hands outstretched in a peaceful gesture. And then it_ spoke._

"Please sir, stop before someone else gets hurt," a child-like voice came in a slight echo-like fashion from the robot, a boy from the sound of it. So the damn thing could _talk_ too? And since when did robots sound…..almost _human._ There was real emotion in that voice, not the usual monotone one often heard with robotic like "beings."

"What in the hell is all this? Is Robotech having a convention?" Dean suddenly retorted, but he was only heard by Sam and Bobby. The rest of the alley's occupants seemed to not have noticed that Dean had even spoke.

"The only one who needs to be hurt tonight is Bradley," the stranger spoke again, the cynicism tossed aside to make room for vehemence. "But anyone who gets in my way will face the consequences," and with that he turned to face the trio again as though his next move was to prove his point…but Bobby wasn't having it.

Stepping in front of him, the older hunter used some vehemence of his own. "Listen here you arrogant dick," Bobby's tone was purely laced with a fierceness that Sam often heard when the man was dealing with anyone who had the intention of hurting his family. "You make one move further with any intention of hurting civilians….I'll make sure your days are severely numbered."

The stranger looked at Bobby for a moment, his expression blatantly revealing his inner struggle on whether to laugh or retort violently. He settled for snark, a grin breaking out over his face.

"You see now old man, I don't respond well to threats. I have a destructive reflex towards those who threaten me." He demonstrated thus by lifting his arm, his open hand suddenly making a beeline straight for Bobby's face.

Dean immediately pushed the older man out of the way, the stranger's hand caught the edge of Dean's jacket and as it slid past, blue light suddenly emitted from the strange symbol on the mysterious man's metallic brace, his fingers slid across Dean's collar and tore it off in a sudden rush of steam that seemed to come from nowhere. The stranger shuffled his feet and in a blur of movement he jumped away from the three of them but barely was he fast enough to dodge the huge fist of the robot that swung forward out of nowhere to strike him in the face.

The stranger ducked and swerved, narrowly missing a punch or jab here and there, but when the kid joined in on the struggle it became a sudden blur of bodies fighting amongst each other.

"What the hell should we do, fight or just stand here?" Dean inquired as he helped Bobby to stand, his eyes intently focused on the struggle before them, but Sam could only nod. There was a chill all around him, and he was beginning to wonder if the icy sensation was simply him feeling dreadful of their situation. When it became apparent that the chilly feeling was more physically than internally felt, Sam looked beyond the blurred battle….where an enormous ice-wall headed straight for them.


	4. Something Wicked

"Oh shit! Get back!" Dean tightened the hold he had on Bobby's shirt and dragged him off, making a run for the other end of the alley opposite the oncoming ice wall. Sam was pressed to choose between helping out the robot-kid and the short blond one or making a run for it, but the imminent sense of overwhelming danger became dominant, and Sam was forced to turn and run, hoping that the two would be okay on their own. And whatever happened to that Freezer guy made no difference to the younger hunter, he'd sealed his fate the second he threatened Bobby. He could freeze to death for all Sam cared; disregarding how ironic the thought sounded. He was just on the verge of closing the distance between himself and Dean and Bobby when….

"ALPHONSE!"

The high-pitched screech was enough of a distraction to cause Sam's abrupt halt and 180-around to see what was happening. The robot -kid, or Alphonse, was staggering back slightly, but appeared to be unharmed….save for the fact that his head was gone, and Sam couldn't help but notice….surely not….he was empty inside.

"What the hell?" he whispered aloud to himself, the ice wall and Dean and Bobby temporarily forgotten in the wake of Sam's stunned silence.

Freezer staggered back, his cold gaze fixed upon Alphonse, eyes wide with shock as he pointed an accusing finger at him. "There's no one in there, it's empty! But that…..that can only be true if the soul was bonded to the armor." Seeming to instantly pick up on what was going on, "so you lost your arm…and your brother, he lost his entire body." He seemed to ponder this for a moment, then a slow grin crept onto his face as he realized, "I see, it all makes sense. You fools committed the ultimate taboo! You attempted Human Transmutation didn't you? Alchemy's one and only unforgivable sin!"

A strong silence crept in between them, leaving the sound of the wind whipping about and the rumbling of the earth to seem almost intrusive with its obnoxious racket. Not even the Freezer said a word, having already done his part for the time being by dropping that bit of information.

The shorter one, seemingly cowed by the Freezer's words, hung his head as though ashamed, blond locks dangling to frame his young face. But the words that came from him next were nothing short of livid.

"You know…there are some lines you really shouldn't cross," his voice was almost soft, the kind of calm that arrived just before all hell broke loose.

Freezer, wiping away at some blood dripping from one of his many wounds, gave a sinister grin and made as though to strike out again, but the shorter one fired back with an outburst of, "Give it up! There's no water for you to use here!"

Seeming to realize that he was right, Freezer merely smirked at the short one's angry retort, giving a chuckle for good measure. "Would love to stand around and chat but my ride is here," he lunged forward, a darkly blur racing past the duo heading straight for the ice wall that was closing in even more. Sam's initial thought of action was to yell at him to get the hell away from that thing, but he could only watch in pure amazement as Freezer leapt forward and grabbed a hold of the wall where, after a sudden burst of blue light, he was lifted higher and higher until he reached the top. At this point he merely watched them from above, a maniacal laughter escaping his lips as the wall continued forward like a freight train intent on mowing down everything in its path.

The blond one reached over to snatch up his partner's head that had been rolling on the ground, tossing it over to Alphonse, who instantly snatched it out of the air and replaced in upon his shoulders with a kind of finesse that spoke clearly of his familiarity with getting his own head knocked off and put back on.

"Brother we need to get out of here!" Alphonse yelled in a frantic voice, backing away from the wall as it became closer and closer.

"You're right Al, let's go!" The "brother" answered, his voice equally as frantic. Turning away from the wall they began racing down the alley, passing Sam as they went, Alphonse's steps ricocheting off the walls in metallic clanks and the shorter one a red blur in his overcoat. The "brother" reached out to punch Sam in the arm as he passed, yelling back "Stop gawking and get moving you idiot!" before rushing onward, leaving Sam to instantly snap back to his senses and follow them.

This running thing was becoming a bit tedious.

When they made it back near the park, Sam began noticing that the ice walls from before had been heading in a similar direction, and the wall directly behind them was following along that same trajectory. The path seemed to lead directly to the center of the city, which from what Sam had witnessed on their initial descent from the hill a couple of hours ago, contained one massively-large building that towered above all the other buildings. He remembered seeing flags dangling off the walls, green ones with some kind of white emblem on them that looked like a lion with a series of circular lines drawn in a pattern that was reminiscent of a military design, or close enough.

"Ed!" Alphonse yelled, because that was the only way to be heard with all the racket, by yelling. "The ice walls! They're headed for Central Command!"

They came to a sudden halt, the two coming mutually to the same conclusion, replying aloud in unison with a frenzied "HE'S GOING TO FREEZE IT OVER!"

"Quick let's go!" The shorter one, Ed, clapped his gloved hands together and slapped them to the ground. A sudden burst of familiar blue light erupted all around them and the ground beneath their feet began shifting and transforming, creating some kind of concrete platform that began rising rapidly into the air.

Ed and Alphonse seemed to have been so caught up in what was happening they'd forgotten the fact that a passenger was on board for this ride. Sam was grasping the edges of the "platform" with a death-grip in order to prevent his falling off the edge and plummeting to the ground below. He couldn't believe what was happening, only moments ago he was on the ground watching a perfectly normal (well sort of) altercation between themselves and Freezer, and now he was rocketing up to the sky, higher and higher with a little blue flicker of light here and there. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd think that the light was almost _fueling_ the "platform's" ascent, which would explain a few other things. But he was beginning to feel a bit light-headed and too much thinking at a time like this would only make him nauseous and he needed focus more than anything right now.

"Brother, what about him?" Alphonse suddenly commented on Sam's bemusing presence, though Sam couldn't tell what he must be thinking (Robots think?) since his Poker Face was made of metal rendering him expressionless. But a part of Sam was transfixed by the glowing circles of light located in two eyeholes where he figured two traditional human eyes would normally be, they seemed to express emotion in a way that the younger hunter couldn't even begin to explain, but he felt his instinct was right, there was emotion there.

Ed turned to face his brother (Brothers? Really?), he was crouched down on the platform just like Alphonse and Sam, though he and the robot weren't clinging to it the way Sam was. This sort of thing must be normal to them, Sam mused awaiting Ed's reply.

"You're not going to pass out on me are you? It would really suck if I had to drag your enormous limp ass to a safe spot," Ed countered sarcastically, reminding Sam so much of Dean it was almost eerie. He merely shook his head in reply, not wanting to open his mouth in case his stomach decided to empty its contents without any warning.

Ed merely shrugged, turning back to Alphonse, "If he gets tossed off that's not our problem, he got _himself_ into this after all."

Alphonse shook his head and turned back to Sam, who had the feeling that the robot-kid was looking at him apologetically, "Just don't fall off okay? We're headed straight for that ice wall." He raised an enormous metal arm to point at said wall, where Freezer was standing at the top, riding it along as it glided towards Central Command. Alphonse continued, "Once we land, jump onto one of the rooftops and get to safety. My brother and I will take it from there. By the way, what's your name?"

Sam's curiosity overpowered his sense of feeling sick, so he immediately raised his voice to call out, "I'm Sam."

"Well Sam, you picked a fine night to clash with a convicted murderer," Ed countered, facing forward as he spoke allowing Sam a moment to get a good look at the symbol on Ed's coat, which oddly enough appeared to be a cross with a kind of serpent wound around it and a crown of some sort adorning the top that had a pair of tiny wings.

Sam wanted to ask about the symbol, he had the strangest notion that he'd seen it somewhere before, but he was too curious about the "convicted murderer" in question to be distracted by it now. "So who's Water Boy?" he asked, a bit of his brother's own brand of humor slipping into his words.

"Isaac the Freezer, he's a State Alchemist," replied Ed shifting his weight so he was standing, leaning back slightly with his legs bent at an angle that reminded Sam of surfers as they rode along a wave. He took a moment to briefly glance over his shoulder and yell, "Brace yourself!"

It was then that Sam noticed their little platform was tilting forward slightly and they were making a beeline straight for the ice wall. Sam barely had time to stand up and position himself for the impact before they crashed into it head on and within seconds Ed and Alphonse were running along the pinnacle of it while Sam struggled for a concise moment to regain his footing enough to get off the platform and onto the ice wall. As he stepped away from it, the platform crumbled and fell away instantly, crashing down to the street below. Two large buildings bracketed the region of the wall upon which Sam was standing, and he found himself in quite the conundrum: he could either back off now and find a way back to Dean and Bobby by jumping onto the nearest roof as Alphonse had instructed him, or he could stick around to see what else became of these estranged "brothers".

Knowing Dean would kill him for it (more than likely he was going to kill him anyway simply for not following him and Bobby in the first place), Sam took off after Ed and Alphonse, the wall rumbling beneath his feet, but he felt no sensation of being close to slipping off it. Strangely enough he felt more balanced on the wall than he did on the ground, though he was sure that was due to its constant change in shape, as though it were secretly compensating for lack of better footing for those on top of it. Sam worried about the possibilities of slipping on the wet surface and falling to his death, but there was a fine layer of frost on the summit which provided a good opportunity to sprint.

Catching up to the other two, he arrived just in time for Alphonse to swing at Isaac, miss, then have his metal body swerve around the convict due to the force behind that single punch. Isaac slipped past Al, opening his palm as he did so and with a flick of his wrist, and a burst of red light, he used is own _blood_ from one of his many wounds to form a long shard that shot out of his hand, like Spiderman shoots a web, and pierced Ed's shoulder just as the kid was about to take a shot. Alphonse shouted for him as Ed stumbled back but his movements were cut short as the blood-shard hooked him to Isaac like a fish on a line. Sam charged forward, grabbed a hold of the shard with one hand and punched it loose with the other.

Ed reached up to tear the broken bit of blood-shard from his shoulder, a splatter of his own blood flying out as he did so. He turned to Sam with a look of pure indignation, "This isn't your battle so don't get involved!"

Sam couldn't help but fire back, his own temper flaring at Ed's stubbornness, "Maybe you should've thought of that before you dragged me into this!"

"I didn't drag you into it, you stowed away and - !"

"Brother!"

Alphonse's admonition was enough to jerk the bickering duo from their heated argument, but not quite fast enough to help them avoid the fist that slammed Sam's face, knocking the taller man back a step or two. Ed launched forward with a minute battle-cry and slammed a fist into Isaac's stomach, then doubled his hands together to knock him on the back of the head, forcing his face to slam against the ice. Ed was about to take another shot but Isaac's hand had sprawled out on the icy surface creating another burst of red light which released a surge of ice that shot straight for Ed's face.

Sam shot out a hand and grabbed a fistful of Ed's jacket to jerk him back just as the ice-spike stopped within inches of the young boy's face. In the midst of the scurry Isaac had regained his standing position and slid down the side of the ice wall, stumbling onto the ground upon landing, followed closely by Alphonse and his brother, then a reluctant Sam who didn't really see any other option than to follow. It took him a moment to realize that the ice wall had stopped moving and that they had landed right next what he could only guess was Central Command, which was beginning to freeze over as the other ice walls closed in on the enormous structure. The green military flags ceased their flapping about in the wind and were submitted to being covered in a think layer of ice that crept along the concrete structure at a rapid rate.

From somewhere a couple of streets over, a huge explosion of fire took place that made the ground shake even more than it already was, the flames reaching high into the sky and framing against one of the ice walls. Sam distinctly heard someone bellowing "WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MY FLAMES NOW YOU BASTARD!" before another explosion followed. He hoped that whoever that had been was having better luck than they were.

The two brothers and Sam went along a couple of alleyways before reaching a street filled with soldiers who were sitting behind mounds of sandbags, firing relentlessly at one of the ice walls but to no avail, and that's where Isaac's trail had gone cold (if you could pardon the pun). Sam scanned the entire street, but Isaac was nowhere to be seen, he must've darted into another alley and slipped away. But which one?

"Major!" Ed directed at one of the soldiers. He was a very tall and muscular man with no hair atop his bald head save for a small bit of blond hair that curled at the tip and dangled forward. He wore the same blue uniform as the other soldiers though judging by the assorted status pins and by Ed referring to him as "Major"; it was obvious he was a man with some level of authority. Like Isaac, he sported a kind of metallic arm-wear that adorned a symbol of some kind, but where Isaac's was on his wrist, this man had them on his hands almost like fingerless gloves with small spikes on the knuckles, one "glove" for each hand. The trio approached him, Ed panting while he made a request, "Al and I will try and slow him down, can you handle the Transmutation circles?"

Sam had no idea what he was referring to, but thankfully the Major did, for he nodded and with a deeper voice than Sam had expected the giant of a man replied with "Consider them erased. I'm on it." He was off instantly, making his way to one of the alleyways and disappearing into the shadows.

Ed motioned for the other two to follow, "Come on before Isaac gets away!" He took off for the nearest alley, which Sam could only hope would actually lead them to Isaac instead of getting them going in circles trying to find the right one.

Alphonse was a faster runner than Sam had expected, he almost had a hard time keeping up with him. They made a series of turns, scanning in all directions for a sign of Isaac, before passing one alley which, from further down it, you could see the Major and a shorter dark-haired man facing off against one of the ice walls. Sam stopped momentarily to watch in fascination as the dark-haired main snapped his fingers towards the wall and, with a sudden burst of flames, forced it back a bit.

"Major! Go now!" He shouted over his shoulder.

"LEAVE IT TO ME!" The Major roared with bravado, his shirt and jacket ripping off with a single flex his abdominal muscles. "The Armstrong fists will not fail!" With a look of determination, and a random sparkle on his head that Sam just couldn't understand, the Major slammed his very fist into the ground with the force of the Incredible Hulk. A burst of blue light and the ground shook and trembled before it broke up and burst forward, the strength of it enough to break up what Sam could only guess was a Transmutation circle that had seemingly been drawn onto the walkway with a piece of chalk. The destruction occurred just in time before the edges of the ice wall could take hold of it completely.

Instantly the red glow that had taken over the city dimmed down and finally disappeared, the other ice walls ceased their movements, and an eerie silence took hold of Amestris. No one spoke for several long minutes, as though they were afraid that by uttering a single syllable the chaos would just start back up again. The soldiers had halted their firing, and stood looking about, waiting for their new orders.

Sam wanted to stick around to see more of what the dark-haired man and the Major were going to do, but his unspoken obligation to help the two boys crept back into his conscience, and he found himself searching frantically for the brothers who had gone ahead without him to confront the convict.

But upon catching up to them, Sam soon realized that was no longer necessary. Ed and Al stood in yet another alleyway, but not to face Isaac in an attempted battle, instead they were facing the site of his "deathbed" which now consisted of his body covered in a blanket with blood pooling out from underneath it. Ed had a hand clasped to his injured shoulder, panting as he and his brother watched a group of soldiers oversee the cleaning-up process. "Fuhrer Bradley….you're here?" he asked incredulously, addressing one of the uniformed men that seemed to stand out amongst the others.

Fuhrer? So he was the leader of this country?

He stood at a height of about six-foot-three, with dark hair glossed back and obviously well-kept on a regular basis, a thick dark mustache and the kind of smile that reminded Sam oddly of a southern preacher from the 1940's in a tan suit and tie, sitting around the business table remarking on all his success at spreading the "good Lord's message" while mopping the sweat off his forehead with an old handkerchief.

He seemed to radiate authority without even trying; it was as though he was brought into this world with the notion that he was to take charge in all things, but something about him made Sam feel uneasy. It wasn't the impressive sword he kept dangling off his belt, nor was it the eye patch that covered his left eye (which aroused Sam's curiosity a great deal).

No

It was the aura that pulsed off of him, something about it reminded Sam of the feeling he sometimes got when he could sense a demon's presence. For a split second Sam's subconscious slid back into a darker part of himself, a place where he stored away the sensations and emotions he associated when dealing with demons or other creatures of the worst kind. His mind, having been distracted severely with everything that had been going on tonight, suddenly began tugging at certain memories and fears that he'd rather not face at the moment. He fought against it, managing to squash it all down. For now. The memories of the past year and a half had been threatening to plague his mind since the moment he woke up in the Panic Room, but he couldn't do it. He wouldn't allow himself to break. Not here. Not now.

"Ah yes, job well done Fullmetal. I came out to see if I could lend a hand," Fuhrer Bradley replied to Ed's inquiry, then he added with a blatant show of male pride "And to think that I'd actually be the one to catch him. If nothing else this should make an exciting story for my son."

Sam watched Bradley cautiously, searching for any signs that he was indeed a demon, for he couldn't be anything else, Sam's gut was screaming that this guy wasn't right and his gut was rarely wrong. The Fuhrer continued to grin triumphantly, but Sam was more focused on what his senses were telling him. Bradley didn't just _feel_ like a demon, he even _smelled_ like one, but Sam had to be sure before he started jumping the gun on this.

Bradley strode forward, his gait oozing authority just as easily as his stature, he came face-to-face with the younger Winchester, offering a pleasant smile. "I see you've brought a friend here Fullmetal. What's your name there son?"

Torn between giving a false name and being honest, Sam settled for giving his real name instead, more than likely if Bradley was in fact a demon he would know who the younger hunter was anyway. So why lie about it? 

"I'm Sam Winchester," he responded offering his hand to the Fuhrer, doing his damnest to keep from giving away that he was aware this man was something other than what he appeared to be. What everyone trusted him to be.

"Very nice to meet you Sam, thank you for your hard work in trying to catch this criminal," Bradley shook Sam's hand warmly as though they were old fishing buddies before retrieving it and placing both hands at the small of his back. "Well I must be heading back to Central Command now. We've got quite a mess on our hands after tonight's events and a long day for paperwork tomorrow. Hope to see you boys helping out with the clean-up," he added as he turned to walk away.

Knowing he didn't have much time before he lost his chance, Sam muttered "Christo" a bit loudly, then braced himself for the result.

Bradley turned around, looking at Sam with a patient yet almost doctor-like expression, which increased Sam's unease, "Beg your pardon?"

Sam found himself staring into the black-less green eye that wasn't covered with the patch. He felt a small dose of relief, but his sense of unease was still poking at his conscience, warning him of danger. No black eyes but he still _smelled_ like a demon.

Sam shook his head, offering a half-smile, "Sorry sir, I was thinking out loud."

Bradley smiled again to show that he was neither offended nor concerned with Sam's answer. He even offered a bit of a reprieve, "You know some people believe that it's a good thing to speak aloud about your thoughts. It helps to make them more real and the more real they are, the easier they are to accept."

Sam nodded but said nothing. Bradley reciprocated the action before turning to continue on his way back to Sam guessed must be the direction of Central Command. Once the Fuhrer was out of sight, he turned around to face Ed and Al, both of which were looking at him strangely as though they were noticing him for the first time.

Now that the danger from Isaac had past, Sam felt it only prudent to begin tracking down his brother, who must be on the verge of losing his mind wondering where Sam had gone. The younger Winchester muttered a "see you later" to the two boys before taking off to search for Dean and Bobby.

Whatever Bradley was, it certainly wasn't human. Sam had spent too many years doing endless tangos with a variety of the supernatural ranging from the good to the worst. If his instincts were right, and he doubted they weren't, they had work to do here in Amestris.


	5. Long Way Down

**A/N: First off, thank you all for the reviews, I'm glad to know you're enjoying the story.**

**Second, as ashamed as I am to admit this, I have yet to read all of the manga and therefore this story is based solely on the anime, which I have seen, the dubbed version anyway. College funds and schedule conflicts make it difficult to get a hold of, much less read the manga, but there are some manga-only bits of trivia that I hope to use at some point via the FMA Wikia site.**

**This update is a bit early but I was too giddy about posting it so I couldn't help myself. Enjoy!**

"What the hell Sam? Seriously!" Dean barked at his younger brother, his current seething rage making him oblivious to the stares he received, particularly from the female portion of the audience. One of the nurses continued staring after her initial startle, eyeing Dean with blatant fascination, clipboard pressed tightly against her cleavage as though clinging to it like some sort of lifeline.

"You know I can let it slide if you get separated from us by some unforeseen force or if you get kidnapped or whatever the hell," Dean lowered his volume, his blatant concern for Sam's well-being evident in the slight break in his voice. "But to deliberately go off with those yahoos and not tell me? That's worse than dingo-ate-my-baby-crazy Sam, and _that's_ pretty damn crazy for us."

Sam merely shrugged, communicating with his eyes how sorry he was, having said it multiple times already from the moment he'd caught up to Dean and Bobby. He didn't know what else to say; and really there was else nothing _to_ say. Dean was right, it had been crazy for him to just run off with two strangers that could just as easily have been his enemy as the man who actually had tried to kill him, but it didn't matter now. What's done is done.

It was dawn, their current location was the waiting area of Central Hospital, and neither of the trio had had a moment's sleep, not even for a few seconds. Sam's mind was still reeling after everything that had gone down last night, not to mention all the things he'd seen that just didn't make any sense, particularly the blue light and how it seemed to create objects or reactions with little effort. Almost like magic.

_Isaac the Freezer, he's a State Alchemist_

Alchemist. That was the term Ed had used to address Isaac, that he was an alchemist. Though not just _any_ kind of an Alchemist, but one of the State, which to Sam's knowledge, considering the uniform he'd adorned, basically rendered Isaac to have been one of the elite of the military. And he'd evidently turned his back on the very country he served, had even attempted to bring it down to its knees; or at least Central Command.

The word "alchemy", if Sam's memory served him correctly, was a synonym for "sorcery", "witchcraft", "black arts" and so on. It literally referred to the process of taking a baser mineral and turning it into gold, a development that had required chemistry as well as philosophical methods of practice and analysis. Alchemy had been a hit in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance Era, endless pages in books described its uses for making something grand out of something so trivial. It was fascinating. It was complex. It was significantly helpful.

It was also a myth.

Alchemy in modern science reminisces the "classic" form of chemistry, and put quite simply, chemistry stemmed from Alchemy and evolved into the concepts in which was highly recognized today. At least that was Sam's initial response upon realizing that what was supposedly a myth was somehow real and used exceptionally here in Amestris. Sam had to wonder if by some small chance he could snag a book or two, learn more about this Alchemy. Were they to master it, it would help to lessen certain mundane burdens that often plagued them along their trips on the road; especially with gun-care.

He did feel guilty for leaving Dean and Bobby like that, but not completely. A part of him was the tiniest bit thankful that he'd made the choice to follow Ed and Al, he wasn't sure why this Alchemy thing had such a pull on him. That strange familiarity he'd experienced earlier when he noticed Ed's coat had only grown a couple of degrees as he'd continued along with the ride, quite literally.

But that was something he just couldn't explain to his brother, he wasn't sure Dean would understand. Hell he didn't even understand it himself.

"Look Dean," Sam switched back to the conversation at hand before his ponderings could wonder any further. "I know I screwed up okay? But you didn't see what _happened_. It was….."

Dean was silent for a moment, giving him a chance to explain, then he prompted, "Was what?"

Sam shook his head, letting out a gush of air hoping to relieve some of the tension he felt. It didn't work. "It was like magic Dean. You should've seen what those boys did. Not to mention the fact that the Alphonse-kid isn't normal."

"Normal is overrated in our vernacular Sam," typical Dean to slip in a snark when his brother was trying to be serious. "And magic I get but what do you mean about this…Alphonse right?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed with a nod, "I'm not sure what he is exactly but it's definitely not human. But I don't think "robot" fits him like it should."

Dean arched an eyebrow at that, "Meaning?"

"Isaac knocked his head off," Sam demonstrated by making a slashing motion across his neck with his hand. "Just took it clean off….and then the kid just puts it back on like nothing happened."

"And you don't think that screams 'robot'?" Dean was on the verge of an actual smirk at this point.

"I'm saying I'm not sure _what_ to think," Sam retorted, leaning back against the wall, head tilted back, mind sifting through all the things he remembered from last night.

Dean muttered something about grabbing coffee and stalked off, leaving Sam to his turmoil of thoughts. Ever since his regrouping with the others, the haze and craze of the previous events had lessened ounce by excruciating ounce, leaving more room for his mind to wander about, touching on certain thoughts and feelings he just wasn't ready for. He thought he was stronger than this, stronger than the darkness of his life, always fighting against it so it wouldn't overtake him, dropping him into some dark abyss of his shady thoughts and memories. He thought he'd learned to control it by now, to have mastered it.

Maybe he had finally cracked beyond the initial breakage of his soul. All of this probably too much for him to handle at the moment, and now his brain was suffering for it, Sam could feel the first pangs of a headache forming. He closed his eyes against it in an attempt to dull out the pain. With no aspirin at hand, and more than likely to receive a negative answer upon requesting for some from one of the nurses, he was left to lick his wounds and bite back on the turmoil raging just below the surface of his conscience.

"Yes did you hear? The Fuhrer himself brought the man down. Missis Bradley is one lucky woman." He heard one girly voice gushing over the country's leader, failing to suppress a burst of giggles.

"I know he's so brave and strong, it's no wonder he can do his job so well," another girlish voice replied to the former with obvious admiration. "With intellect such as his and a firm grasp of military techniques he truly does know what he's doing huh?"

He wasn't surprised to hear about the Fuhrer's success in bringing down Isaac, which had been clearly evident in the alleyway last night. Isaac's body lay slain and surrounded by a pool of blood covered with a blanket, the Fuhrer standing there with a triumphant expression as though he'd just killed a huge monster and had protected his castle from a great enemy. "Slain" was a proper way to describe it, for Isaac had died after receiving a couple of slashes to his upper torso area just along the shoulders, or so Sam had heard, massive blood loss the ultimate cause of his death. Bradley sure had put that sword of his to good use.

What bothered Sam was the fact that he seemed to be the only one to notice that there was something seriously wrong with Bradley, Sam could sense it; practically _feel_ it. That kind of certainty that went from your brain to your blood and straight into your bones with its intensity, you just _knew_ the truth even if you couldn't necessarily prove it. But how he planned to prove that the Fuhrer was something other than he seemed Sam didn't know, at least not yet. Just thinking about it made the ache in his head throb a little more.

"Excuse me?"

Sam had been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't realized someone had approached him; it took him a moment to realize that the pounding he thought had been the ache in his head was actually the clanking footsteps of none other than Alphonse himself. He stood just a few feet away, looking at Sam in what the younger hunter could only guess was a cautious "expression".

At this proximity, Sam took a moment to let sink in the details of what Alphonse looked like now that he had a better view. The very first thing he noticed was how _tall_ Alphonse was; he had to be at seven-feet or higher. Having to look up to someone wasn't a norm for Sam, and it made him feel almost dwarfed compared to Al's size. Suddenly he knew how Dean must feel sometimes, having to crane his neck slightly just to look at his younger brother.

Sam also noted the spikes on his shoulder-blades, the bit of feathery "hair" stemming from the top of his head, the enormous breastplate that came to a point just above the abdominal area. His hands appeared to be of some sort of glove-like material with metal plates adorning the backs of them, and he had a sort of white tunic that covered his private area in both front and back. Peering more closely, Sam realized that the shape of his body was nothing like a robot, but rather a suit of armor.

Armor?

"Hi, we haven't been properly introduced," the "robot" in question stretched out a "gloved"-metal hand. "I'm Alphonse Elric. The other one you met last night, in the red coat, that's my brother Ed."

Not wanting to appear rude, Sam accepted Al's offered hand, nodding as he did so. "I'm Sam Winchester. It's nice to meet you Alphonse."

_There's no one in there, it's empty! But that…..that can only be true if the soul was bonded to the armor._

The words tumbled into the front of his brain out of nowhere, Isaac's accusatory statement making more sense now that Sam had had time to think. Immediately his mind latched onto that bit of information, something he'd overlooked in all the confusion. Initially he'd thought Isaac had just been mouthing off or maybe that he was drunk when he said it, but that was before he found out that it was armor and not some robotic suit. But soul attachment? Alphonse? That was crazy, crazier than the craziest of things they had ever hunted in the past. Sam had fought countless spirits, had dealt with spirit attachments particularly with cursed objects that had put up one hell of a fight. But not a single one of those instances could equal to the scale of Alphonse if what Isaac said was true. It just…couldn't be.

_So you lost your arm…and your brother…he lost his entire body._

What had he meant by that? Did Alphonse die and his spirit was attached to the armor? And what did he mean by having lost an arm? Meaning Ed's arm?

Now that he thought about it, Sam remembered that Ed's hands had been sheathed in a pair of white gloves so he hadn't been able to see them. Could what Isaac said be true then?

"Are you okay?" Al's voice, full of slight concert and a kind of innocence that only kids could have, broke through Sam's thoughts once again.

Sam knew asking him about it would lead to certain consequences, that he would be stepping across an unspoken boundary of some sort, but he'd dealt with enough in the last twenty-four hours and was currently in no mood for a tactful approach….somewhat.

"Al...," he started off cautiously, "Can you tell me…..that is….what happened to you?"

Al's head whipped back slightly, as though Sam had dealt some kind of blow with that question, he even made a phantomlike gasp that sounded almost hollow. It occurred to Sam, now that he could hear him more clearly, Al's voice sounded hollow as well, leaving the younger hunter to believe that he truly was empty on the inside.

"I heard him Alphonse," Sam continued, his voice growing soft so as to ease the boy's obvious stress. "I heard what Isaac said…about your brother….about you."

Alphonse shook his head, then dipped it down a notch or two as though he were ashamed. But why would he be? What could he, a child, possibly have done to warrant shame?

"You wouldn't understand," he finally answered, his voice barely a whisper and reverberating inside his hollow suit as though he'd spoken into a metal bucket.

Before another word could be said, Al turned and walked off, leaving Sam to mull over what could possibly have happened to the poor kid.

The instant silence was broken by the reappearance of Dean followed closely by Bobby who, to Sam's knowledge, had instantly gone into researcher-hunter mode after their narrow escape from Isaac and the ice wall. He'd left them in the waiting room with the reassurance that he would do some digging, given what little resources they had that wasn't going to be an easy thing to do, but Bobby could be a miracle worker if the occasion called for a Singer-style information loophole.

"I've got bad news and worst news," he offered bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

"Bad first," Dean replied, moving to lean against the wall next to Sam, arms crossed over his chest.

"Bad news is, we're not in Kansas anymore," Bobby confessed, looking exactly how Sam felt; like he'd just spent the past several hours without sleep and a boatload of confusion with no filter to sort through it with.

"And the worst news?" Dean risked asking, his dread for what was to come evident in the bitter expression on his face.

"Well, I've had a nice little chat with one of the nurses...and," Bobby shifted his weight slightly, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. "It appears we're not even on the same damn planet anymore after all."

There was a moment of silence, during which both Sam and Dean stared at Bobby, exchanged disbelieving looks, then stared at Bobby some more, open-mouthed and clearly in the dark on this.

"What does that mean exactly?" Sam asked, matching his brother's dread, a familiar tug pulling at his brain.

_No, not now. Please not now._

"I went over to ask how to get back to the U.S. and this woman looked at me like I was some kind of whacky tourist," Bobby retorted, his agitation a reflection of what the boys were beginning to feel now that his words were starting to sink in. "Apparently the U.S doesn't even _exist_….and neither do some other countries I named off when she couldn't figure out what I was talking about. That leaves me to believe we're in damn Oz right now."

He allowed them to stew over that for a moment or two, Dean reaching up to press his knuckles against his lips, a customary position he often took when he was in a thinking mode. Sam watched him for a moment, hoping that his brother would have something, anything, that could help them make sense of all this. He hated being in situations like this, dealing with something that was beyond their comprehension.

_Tug_

"So what do we do now?" Dean finally turned to face the other two, but considering their current money-less, gun-less as well as homeless predicament, their options were as slim as a twig.

_Tug_

"Sammy?"

Sam didn't register Dean's voice at first, his brain was pulling back into itself, a familiar blackness was starting to prickle at his peripheral.

"Sammy you okay?"

_Tug_

"Dean….."

_Tug. Tug._

Somehow Sam found himself hurdling towards the floor, his world turning first hazy than becoming sprinkled with black dots that tickled his vision. He thought he heard Dean calling for him but his mind was too preoccupied with escaping to make note of it.

_Pull._

And everything went black.


	6. Comfortably Numb

There was a fog in his brain. At least that's how it felt at the moment, like a waterless mist had settled onto his Frontal lobe, casting vapors across each thought as it came and went, the neural firings stimulating his coming awake. Sam was aware of lying down, of the spot in which he laid being very soft, and that same softness both covered as well as supported him.

He'd passed out obviously, his mind blacking out in defense against the chaos in his head, retreating by form of temporary "shutdown".

_Do you remember, Sam?_

Remember. Something he wanted to do. Something that could give him answers. Something that could kill him. Break him. Condemn him.

_Do you remember Hell Sam?_

Hell? Oh yes he remembered, much to his dismay. He remembered the burning. The endless torture for over a year; which felt like more than a century. But now to be back, to have these memories with him on the surface, it was almost as if he'd brought a bit of Hell back with him.

_Do you remember where you belong?_

When had he ever belonged anywhere? He hadn't even felt as though he belonged at Bobby's. The "outcast" title seemed to fit him no matter where he stumbled upon and attempted to make some kind of roots. Wait….was he talking to himself? 

_Do you remember _me_ Sam?_

That voice…...it sounded like…..

"So you're awake."

Sam opened his eyes to a white ceiling with bronze trim, a large window framed with white curtains to his right, sunlight streaming in through the glass. Wooden panels decorated the lower halves of the walls with wooden trim, and there was a chart or two hanging off thumbtacks. The softness he'd noticed earlier turned out to be the white sheets on his hospital bed, and over to his left…..

"Never seen a guy faint before. You must have some real issues after all."

He turned his gaze to see Edward Elric, braided blond hair with a bit sticking out like an antenna, adorning a hospital shirt and pants. He appeared to be uninjured save for the bit of bandage peeking out from under his left shirtsleeve, and as for his right arm…..

There wasn't one. Instead what should've been a limb made of flesh and bone was one made of metal, and it's current function was to prop up Ed's chin as he sat in a chair facing Sam, a look of disgruntlement generating creases in his forehead. The elbow of his non-metal arm rested against his left leg which, when Sam's gaze traveled further south, revealed that not only was his right arm made of metal but his left leg as well. The "toes" of the "foot" wriggled slightly, as though silently proving that this was a fully functional limb, even though Sam already knew that. Last night's endless parade of insane Elric-stunts was proof enough of that.

"Don't look so surprised. It's not as if you weren't expecting to see this."

Sam's gaze snapped back to look directly into Ed's eyes, they were a mellow gold, full of distrust and unconcealed dislike. But the younger hunter couldn't guess what it was that could possibly have driven Ed to have an aversion to him like this when he didn't even know him.

"So Al tells me you've been snooping, asking him questions about things that don't concern you."

Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning back against his pillow, the covers falling away to reveal his own hospital gear; same kind of shirt and pants that Ed was wearing. "What about it?" He'd understood that his asking Al about something obviously personal was risking stepping across some boundaries, but he didn't think it warranted the kind of attitude Ed was currently bestowing on him.

"It's none of your damn business that's what," Ed's blatant detest of Sam's interference dripping into his voice like snake venom. "I don't care what you heard Sam, or what you _think_ you know. Whatever happened is our personal business and it doesn't need to be dissected by outsiders."

Sam couldn't resist provoking him, his own anger fueling a cynical remark, "You mean like the fact that your bodiless-brother's soul is attached to a suit of armor?"

The reaction Sam received was nothing less than he'd expected; the instant rush of blood that reddened the younger boy's face, the squeak of the chair as it slid back from his jumping to his feet, the accusatory expression as he pointed a finger at Sam, obviously upset over the question.

"You don't know a damn thing about it! Just stay the hell away from us you hear?"

Even though he'd prepared himself for an outburst, Edward's spastic moment still surprised him a little. Before he could open his mouth to retort Ed turned on his heels and stomped out of the room, metal foot making metallic slapping noises against the floor, slamming the door behind him.

It had all happened so fast that Sam hadn't known whether to yell after that idiot kid or shout at him to go screw himself. So what if he knew about Al? He wasn't planning on blackmailing them or selling them out to the media for a quick buck. Sam had acted as the jerk in the past but he wasn't the type to pull a dick-move like that. Okay maybe he would've done something worthy of an Asshole Award if was still without his soul, but things were different now. Ed just needed to take a moment and settle down before he mouthed off again and someone, most likely Dean, decided to knock him out just so he'd shut up.

What the hell had happened to those kids? More specifically, what the hell had happened to Al?

Whatever it was, it must've been pretty awful for Ed to become authoritative and demand, in a rude fashion, that Sam leave it alone. The kid was obviously stressed about something, but Sam doubted it had anything to do with Isaac, the man was dead after all, no longer a threat to society. Ed had wanted to stop him before he could hurt anyone else, and he'd been stopped in the end as was the main goal. That's all there was to it really; unless the pipsqueak was pissed that he didn't get to off the guy himself.

If that was the case, in Sam's own opinion, the boy's life was sadder than he dared to think about. The difference between _wanting_ to kill, and having no choice _but_ to was a few degrees of insanity. It was enough to push the right buttons and quite possibly make a person snap.

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. Sam was beginning to wonder if this was becoming a norm for him in this place. This _alternate reality_, whatever it was. "Come in."

He expected it to be Dean, or perhaps some other individual with whom he'd encountered last night that had decided to pay him a visit. Sam secretly wished it would be Al, simply because he wanted to ask him a few more questions before Ed could step in again.

But it was none of the above that walked in through the door. Fuhrer Bradley stepped into the room, sword-less and grinning, carrying what appeared to be a large rounded basket wrapped up in some kind of paper and tied off at the handle with a large ribbon made into a bow.

The nightly darkness had obstructed Sam from getting a good look at Bradley last night, but now in the light of day his features were quite clear. His hair slicked back once again, not a strand out of place save for the tiny wisps of hair that dangled above his forehead. He once again wore the eye-patch, which still had Sam wondering, and based on the slight creases in his face he appeared to be in either his fifties or sixties, but his level of energy and the raw sense of power that radiated off of him gave the impression that he was younger at heart; and lived as such.

Sam felt that familiar unsettling feeling of suspicion creep down his spinal cord and dripping into his very bones. Why the hell would the Fuhrer come to pay _him_ a visit? Even more than that, why bring him a gift?

"Hello again Sam Winchester. I was told you'd had an unfortunate blackout and thought I'd come by and visit you to give you an official token of my thanks." He held up the basket, "It is customary to present a patient with a melon, as a way of saying 'Get Well Soon'." He closed the distance between himself and the patient-in-question, presenting the melon in such a nonchalant fashion that reeked of regal-like subtext simply by being an act of the Fuhrer himself and not just some random civilian or nurse.

Part of him wanted to knock the basket out of the Fuhrer's hands and confront him right then and there, but that wouldn't be the logical thing to do, nor would it help him in his internal struggle over the Fuhrer's identity. Instead Sam reached out and took the offering, setting it on the table on the right side of his bed with a nod and a "Thank you sir".

The Fuhrer's casual demeanor gave Sam the impression that, regardless of his high rank and obvious leader-ly strength, it was nothing new for him to personally visit someone in the hospital. Nor was it out of the ordinary to present them with a gift.

He clasped his hands together behind him, that triumphant grin on his face, like a cat that had just swallowed the canary. Sam had the unsettling feeling that he just might be the canary, even though it didn't make any sense, it was just a hunch. "Consider it a 'Thank You' as well for your help in the previous evening's fiasco. It is nice to know that we have the support of our citizens when dealing with national threat."

Sam tried to ignore the warning signals going off in his head, "'National threat' sir?"

"Isaac McDougal was a traitor and a criminal," Bradley answered him, his voice reminiscing what most politicians sound like when giving a ground-breaking speech. "He would've succeeded in overthrowing not only myself, but this country as well."

Sam furrowed his brow at that, "And no one was able to stop him before he could become almost-successful?" Immediately realizing that his question challenged the Fuhrer's standpoint, he quickly added in another "Sir" out of respect.

But Bradley merely chuckled, "You'd be surprised at how conniving a person can be with enough intellect and patience Sam. And it is in that state of mind that a man discovers what he is truly capable of, enough to overpower an enemy with a single blow just as long as it's the _right kind_ of blow."

Sam had the distinct feeling that Bradley was referring to more than just Isaac and the manner in which he was officially brought down, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it could be. Still though, he couldn't shake of the sensation of being threatened.

Or maybe he was being paranoid. The Fuhrer had no reason to hurt him, or even kill him, so why the shady vibes every time Sam came into the contact with the guy?

From out in the hall a frantic "Has anyone seen the Fuhrer?" could be heard loud and clear, accompanied by a shuffling of footsteps headed in their direction.

Bradley's gaze flickered over his shoulder towards the door, then he refocused on Sam to offer a million-dollar smile. "Well I must be off now. It was nice seeing you again Sam Winchester."

He immediately scurried over to the window, opening it, then throwing a leg over and jumping onto the ground outside. He looked back into the room long enough to say, "Enjoy that melon son," before disappearing out of view, muttering something about his bodyguard.

For a split second Sam had this insane urge to laugh. Here was a man, who radiated some strange demon-like vibes, was obviously a skilled fighter, acting like a celebrity disappearing out the backdoor of a restaurant to avoid the paparazzi that stalked just outside the front window. Not to mention he'd visited Sam as though they were friends instead of enemies-to-be (or so it felt), and he'd even given him a melon as a gift.

If Sam hadn't believed that Bradley was altogether "there", he definitely did now.

The door opened again, this time without a knock, to reveal the six-foot-three of hungry hunter Dean, balancing a tray of food in one hand, two bottles of milk in the other, a folded piece of paper clenched between his teeth. He bustled into the room, using his back to close the door behind him, and strode over to sit in the chair that Ed had occupied several moments ago.

"How you doing?" Dean asked immediately, setting all the stuff on the table next to Sam's bed, the piece of paper now in his right hand caught between his ring and pinky fingers and his palm as he shifted the table from the left side of the bed in order to set it between himself and Sam. The younger hunter tossed the covers aside and swung his legs around to sit face-to-face with Dean.

"I'm fine," Sam replied, the sight of the food making him realize how hungry he was, he instantly snatched up the fork and spoon his brother had provided and began digging in mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, and Salisbury steak. Dean didn't seem to mind that he wouldn't be sharing the main course but he compensated by stealing away Sam's bowl of cherry Jell-O and diving in with his own spoon that he'd fished from his jacket pocket.

"You sure?" Dean inquired further, glancing up at his brother with a look of the kind of concern that Sam knew would only lace the burden further with worry if he 'fessed up about how he really felt.

"Yeah I'm good. Scout's honor," Sam nodded, stuffing his mouth with some of the potatoes and cutting off bites of his steak with the fork before swallowing them down as well.

"Alrighty then," Dean replied, turning back to "his" dessert with a nod, "that's good." He pointed his spoon towards the door, "D'you hear all the commotion outside?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah they were looking for the Fuhrer. I think it was his bodyguards or something, more than likely that's who it was. A man with his status, you wouldn't want him walking around without some kind human protection." He reached over and plucked one of the milk bottles, popped the top, and took three heavy swallows, his stomach settling in the food and drink with gratitude from being filled again.

"How the hell do you misplace a guy like him anyway?" Dean commented jokingly, chuckling at the very thought. "I mean it's not like he'd be hard to spot in a crowd, guy's got a friggin' eye-patch for crying out loud."

"He was here," Sam answered immediately, wanting to talk with Dean finally about his hunch on the Fuhrer. After the visit he'd just received earlier, his suspicions were becoming more solid.

"You mean he came to see you?" Dean furrowed his eyebrows, setting the empty Jell-O bowl aside, spoon clanking against the glass. "Why? What did he want?"

"Nothing," Sam replied, "except to give me that melon and tell me thank you for helping out." He nodded in the direction behind him where the paper-wrapped basket sat, still unopened.

"Hmmm," Dean snagged the uneaten roll Sam had left sitting on the tray and took a large bite, chewing as he spoke, "You'd think a grown man in the hospital would get some porn mags or even a pie, hell a case of beer would be nice. But a damn melon?"

Sam shrugged, "You got me." He lowered his voice slightly, "And that's not even the end of how strange things have been with him."

Dean's eyebrows arched in perfect harmony, "Really?"

Sam explained his initial instinct upon meeting Bradley, the sensation that the Fuhrer was something more than a Fuhrer, and how that foreboding feeling had happened again when Bradley had entered his room, casual as can be, and offered him a melon. Then there was the things he'd said about Isaac, the way his words seemingly had had a double-meaning that sounded threatening.

"I don't know for sure if he's shady but I think it's worth looking into."

"You're not the only one," Dean replied, his eyes focused on some point at the end of the bed. "I've had those same vibes on and off since we arrived here, but they got worse once we were in the city. Something's not right here." He looked back at Sam, his expression almost grave, "I'll top your weirdness with some of my own." He held up the folded piece of paper.

Sam frowned, "What is it?"

"You know how we usually skip out before the insurance BS comes into play at the hospitals? Or when we give them a phony credit card so we don't have to pay out of our pockets?" Dean unfolded the paper and tossed it to Sam, "Well it seems that we don't have to worry about that here. Check that out."

Sam picked up the paper and began to read a page-worth of information regarding how their, Sam and Dean's, insurance was covering the medical expenses, the insurance company stated in the appropriate box labeled with "Central Care Insurance Co." Under the names section both he and Dean were listed as recipients of this insurance for both medical and property damage dependent upon the state of the situation.

"What the - ?"

"I know I don't get it either," Dean answered. "Bobby's off to the nearest bank to see what the hell's going on but from the looks of it….."

"Someone set us up with insurance, meaning we should have money," Sam finished for him, the gears in his brain already turning with trying to figure this one out.

"Yeah but who would want to set us up with insurance? We're not _from_ here; they don't even know we exist except for that piece of paper and the fact that we gave our names to the front desk here at the hospital."

"Well," Sam began, the gears having reached a valid, yet crazy, point. "It could only have been done by someone who knew we'd be here." He folded up the piece of paper and handed it back to Dean, "Probably the same person…...or thing…...that brought us here in the first place."

Dean took the paper back and stuffed it into his inside jacket pocket, "You mean the same person or thing that's probably watching us do the monkey dance right now?" He banged a fist on the table, "Well whoever this bastard is, I'm sick of this crap already, what is this anyway some kind of joke?"

Sam didn't know how to answer that, his own train of thought about the subject ending up going in circles each time he tried to view things from a different angle, but in the end he came up with nothing.

So they had insurance, which meant that they had money. Why here? Who would've known they'd end up here? And why help them out this way? Another angel perhaps? God?

Sam had pondered over this before, but the more he'd thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. No other angels had ever offered to help them that weren't already dead, missing, or gone rogue; the rest either hated them, wanted them dead, or just didn't give a crap. And God? As far as one God-O-Meter amulet and the advice from one angel Joshua were concerned, God was gone. So that left what exactly?

A landfill full of questions with no clue as to where to start looking.

"Sam?"

Sam refocused on Dean, "Yeah?"

"How are you? Really?" Dean inquired, his gaze going soft in that way that reminded Sam of when they were kids and Dean had to look after him while dad was gone on a hunt. It made him feel strangely vulnerable for some reason, as though Dean could sense that the effects of his "Wall" collapsing were on the verge of cutting him off at the knees.

"I told you I'm alright," Sam tried to reassure him, but even to his own ears he sounded uncertain.

Dean stared at him for a moment, a sad look in his eyes; it hurt Sam to see that look on his brother's face, knowing that Dean carried a heavy burden on his shoulders that was only made worse by his worry for Sam's well-being.

"I want to believe you Sam," Dean began, his voice sounding fragile. "But your little fainting stunt earlier, not to mention the nosebleed and the fact that your eyes rolled into the back of your head….it's got me worried."

Sam had been hoping they wouldn't attempt to analyze what had happened, it was bad enough that he'd fainted in the first place, talking about it only seemed to make it even worse. He didn't want Dean to worry about him, but at the same time he needed someone to talk to, and who better than his own brother. In truth, Dean was really the only person he wished to discuss this with.

"Nosebleed?" Sam reached up absent-mindedly to feel around his upper lip, as though he expected to find a spot of blood there, knowing there wouldn't be any since they would've cleaned him up. "And my eyes rolled too?"

Dean nodded, his expression more grave than before. "The doctor filled me in on the eye-rolling bit but the nosebleed was pretty obvious. Look Sam I know what you're trying to do, and I'm telling you to stop. Keeping it from me isn't going to make it any easier in the long-run," He leaned across the table, his tone deathly-serious. "I mean what's going to happen the next time you black out? I'm worried that a couple more drops will make you into a veg."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you Dean," Sam replied, trying to keep his voice calm so as not to stir any more worry. "You can't help me with this, why bring you down with me? Do you want to suffer too?"

"You're my _brother_ dammit, I suffer with you even if it's some crap that doesn't even involve me," Dean replied fiercely. "What? Am I supposed to have permission to worry about you? You're my family of _course_ I'm going to worry, that's how it always is with us: we worry, we shoot and kill something, we worry some more, we eat pie, drink beer and try to pretend that our lives aren't cesspools full of the crappiest crap there is."

Sam was silent for a moment. He knew Dean was right, but he still couldn't shake off the innate urge to shield his brother from the storm raging inside his head. It was bad enough that one of them had to suffer with Hell's burn marks on Sam's mind and soul. Dean shouldn't have to go through it alongside him; he'd already had his share of Hell's handy work he didn't need to prolong the anguish by diving into Sam's own torture.

He knew that he could argue his point until he was blue in the face, and Dean would _still_ dig his heels in and demand that Sam be honest with him about these things, so he opted to just be silent. Let Dean stew over it for a while, but Sam was going to have to be more careful in the future about not fainting again.

Their argument was interrupted by the return of Bobby, carrying a manila folder under one arm, using both hands to hold three cups of steaming hot coffee. He immediately set the cups down on the small table before taking a seat next to Sam, setting the folder down beside him.

"So how'd it go?" Dean inquired, his poker face having replaced the grim expression. Obviously Bobby wasn't going to hear about the argument. Not yet at least.

"Well we can skip the witty comments about the level of crazy we're constantly plunging into and just hit straight on the mark," he held up the folder in his right hand. "This contains papers regarding our insurance information, paperwork on separate bank accounts for you, Sam, _and _me. And then there's something else…"

They both stared at him for a moment, and when he didn't answer right away, prompted Sam to ask the obvious follow-up. "And?"

"Well according to our financial representative at the Central Bank," Bobby leaned forward on his leg with his free hand, "not only do we each have our own money but apparently…we have a damn _house_."

Dean and Sam's eyes both widened and narrowed in perfect synchronization, and Dean replying with, "Seriously? How the hell did that happen?"

"What? Did I forget to mention I bought a house for us here in Amestris?" Bobby countered sarcastically. "I had a feeling we'd need a vacation from…well…..the whole damn planet Earth really."

Sam reached over for the folder, shoving the empty plate away in order to set it on the table, where he began rifling through the papers. Bobby was right; everything was there, including the deed to said house that they "owned". According to the list of names, the three of them owned it together, and it was already paid in full, and in cash too.

Dean shook his head, overlooking Bobby's smartass remark, "But this doesn't make any sense. It's like Sam said earlier, someone must've known we'd be here and decided to hook us up with some money, and now apparently a place to stay." He scoffed, leaning back in the chair, dragging his lower lip through his teeth in a thoughtful manner.

"Well it ain't _all_ that peachy and it definitely don't smell right," Bobby pointed out, "but I say we take what we can get, considering we don't have Jack squat of anything right now. Not even a place to _sleep_, much less anything to eat. And we need to get the essentials."

Sam looked up, "Pass any gun stores along the way?"

Bobby nodded, "One for sure on the way to the bank, but I have a feeling the permit issue is going to be a bigger pain here seeing as our credentials are slightly limited."

"It's the early 1900's," Dean retorted, his agitation over the whole situation surfacing once again. "I think as long as you're over the age of consent you don't _need_ credentials."

"In case it's slipped through a hole in your head, I'd like to remind you that we're not in the same _world_ anymore, so the usual rules may not always apply," Bobby reminded him. "We're gonna have to test the waters first but if worst comes to it…"

Dean sighed heavily, nodding in silent submission. "Okay then, what about booze? After all the crap that happened last night, and the side-dish of it this morning I could go for some shots."

"Well we're in luck," Bobby gathered the folder and its contents together. "Liquor store's just down the street. From the looks of it, they've got the good stuff. But at the moment I'm more concerned about the guns, seeing as how they're more important than something to help dull your brain…."

"We could make them."

Bobby and Dean each turned to look at Sam bemusedly, Dean sitting forward in his chair once again. "_Make_ them? How?"

Sam looked at them both carefully, having already made up his mind to do this, but just not certain about how they would react to the idea. "Alchemy of course. They use it for a lot of things here, why not just make our own weapons? We could even customize them if necessary."

"Do you realize how crazy that sounds?" Dean jabbed a finger against the table. "We don't know diddly-squat about Alchemy and even if we did…how do you know it won't be a risk? You said so yourself, it was something beyond what we're used to; translation: risky as _fuck_."

"I'm just saying it's an option Dean," Sam wanted to cut him short before Dean went into some kind of lecture-mode.

"It's not that bad of an idea actually," Bobby piped in, offering his support. "At least, it wouldn't hurt to look into this stuff. Hell if anything I just want to know what all can be done with it."

Sam frowned, "Dean fill you in?"

Bobby nodded again, "Right about the time we divorced you from the tile actually." He seemed to think for a moment, weighing the options, "It's an idea there's no denying it, but you might want to do some reading up on it first. I'd hate for one or both of you muttonheads to get yourselves killed by doing something stupid like trying to morph a bazooka and end up blowing your own hands off."

Both boys nodded, Dean rising out of his chair. "Alright let's go, I'm ready to ditch this place."

About an hour later, when all the paperwork was finished and Sam was officially released (with the warning to return if this happened again), they made their way to the exit. Sam had tried in vain to see if he could spot either of the Elrics about, but no sign of them could be visible. They must've already gone home since Sam's last encounter with them, which was too bad really. The two of them were obviously skilled alchemists, they could've been a great help.

Once outside, the trio stood on the sidewalk facing the street, that emblematic sensation of "What do we do now?" settling in on all three of them.

Dean was the first to speak, "Bobby? Did any of those papers happen to include any information about having a car?"

Bobby, looking disconcerted, did a sort of shrugging motion with his mouth. "Sorry Dean, no dice on a car."

Dean nodded, scoffing once again, "Well that's just great." Then he set off down the street.


	7. All The Small Things

"Son…..of…..a…..bitch."

Dean's emphasis on each word went further than Sam cared for but he couldn't deny that his brother's off-moment mirrored his own. Not only did they own a house…they owned a pink house.

The outside itself wasn't pink, thankfully, but everything inside it, right down to the floor tiles was adorned in some shade of pink. Pink curtains with pink ruffle trim, a magenta couch with light pink throw pillows, the back of it covered in a pink crochet blanket. Pink rugs here and there stood out viciously against the darkened hardwood floors. The kitchen was beige and light pink with white countertops, the cabinets pink with glossy-white knobs. The bathroom, bedrooms, living room, dining room all pink. Even the crawlspace below the house was pink. Pink. Pink. Everything fucking _pink_.

"Oh god we're Elle Woods now," Dean's expression was a mixture of disgust and that kind of look young children have when faced with the possibility of touching a member of the opposite sex and catching the "cooties."

"Now all we need is a damn Chihuahua and we're good to go," Bobby leaned over to pluck a pink candle (go figure) off the coffee table, sniff it, wrinkle his nose in revulsion, then set it back down with a cough. "That's like ammonia to my sinuses."

"It's like an early 1900's version of the Playboy mansion before it was a big deal," Dean snarked.

"Yeah except there aren't any Bunnies to offset the crappy interior design," Sam replied jokingly, snatching a pillow from off the couch. Silk, probably the cheap imitation, and more feminine than he could handle.

Dean set down the duffle-bag he'd had slung over his shoulder onto the wooden floor. They'd made a pit-stop along the way to gather "supplies": meaning guns and booze (which had actually been easy to get wouldn't you know), the "bare necessities" of the hunter life, or at least two of the three. Dean was making for the kitchen to check up on the third member of that group, opening up random cabinets, the pantry door, the icebox, but finding nothing.

"Dammit," he slammed a cabinet door shut. "Well no go-juice for now which means one of you is going to have to play housewife," he formed his hand into a fist and placed into his other open palm.

"Now that we have some money," Bobby interjected, holding up a hand. "Why not just eat out instead of resorting to Rock Paper Scissors? I'm pretty sure there wont be any food here we can nuke in a microwave, meaning we'd have to fix it from scratch. Are either of you big fans of Rachael Ray?"

Dean made a shrug-smile face, "Fine by me, like hell am _I_ going to cook."

"Well god-forbid you lift a spatula instead of a wrench," Bobby countered provokingly, but Dean merely shrugged in nonchalance.

The next hour or so was spent doing what Sam liked the call "rigging". At various locations in the house, in concealed but easy-to-find (for them) locations, they placed any one of a gun or blade. Sawed-off shotguns, 9mm semiautomatic's, machetes, bow knives, even a dagger or two. The gun-shop owner hadn't appeared the slightest bit suspicious for their need to have so many weapons, which lead Sam to believe that military officials sometimes carried their work home with them. No car meant no trunk to "rig" out, so their house was the next best thing. Bobby went to work drawing Devil's Trap's on every ceiling in each room while Dean was busy putting salt-lines at every door and window. The black sinister markings of the Traps clashed dramatically with the innocent vibes of the feminine décor which, if by some off-chance the house was ever invaded by demons or other creatures, would make them appear to be quite the comic relief to the bad guys. The booze went straight into the cabinets, but no glasses meant no indulgence until they either ran to the nearest store or overcame the "no drinking after each other" rule.

"Well that about does it," Bobby emerged from one of the bedrooms, replacing the cap on a permanent marker. "But we need Holy Water something fierce if Sam's instinct on the Fuhrer is right and I'm fresh out of Rosary's."

"I hate not having a Panic Room now," Dean placed the salt-bags into one of the cabinets and shut it closed. "But good thing we know how to Exorcise by heart, that helps some."

"Too bad we don't have that special knife of yours," Bobby stuck the marker back in the duffle-bag and zipped it shut.

Most of the stuff that they really needed was still in the Impala which, from what Dean had told Sam, had been given quite the donkey-kick by a horde of demons and was now lying on its roof, useless except to attract attention of a passerby. Dean still muttered incoherently and viciously under his breath whenever his beloved car was mentioned, pissed off at the fact that it had been trashed by something demon-related incident once again. But Sam was more concerned about the weapons they'd left behind, including the archangel's blade as well as the demon-killing knife, the former having fallen from Sam's grasp when Castiel went to tear his soul out.

Sam absent-mindedly rubbed a hand across his stomach, the phantom pain from Cas's fingers penetrating his lower abdomen having lessened a great deal since last night. He wondered vaguely what Cas might be up to right now, if he was out searching for them. Hell he could already be here for all they knew, probably tearing the place apart trying to find them. The very idea of Cas finding them here scared Sam more than any crazed alchemist or shady Fuhrer.

And apparently he wasn't alone.

"Well, now that we've got a minute," Bobby went over to sit on the couch, resting his arm along the back of it. "Are we going to talk about what happened back in that room or are we going to continue ignoring it like we've been doing?"

Good ol' Bobby, always straight to the point, his tone insinuating that this would be a bullshit-free conversation. And he was right, they had been ignoring it for the past several hours, but now the weight of their predicament was closing in on them in a suffocating manner. In their defense however, there had been plenty of distractions between now and their first landing into this alternate universe to keep them from focusing intently on what had happened.

"Alrighty then," Dean went to occupy the other end of the couch, and Sam sat on the arm of one of the chairs. "Well I think it's easy to deduce that Cas has flown off the handle in a big way."

Bobby quirked an eyebrow, "You think?"

Dean closed his eyes and sighed dramatically, "Okay fine, but what the hell are we going to do about it? I mean it's not like he's going to listen to us. I mean damn Bobby he tried to rip out Sam's _soul_," he turned to face his brother. "Speaking of which, how's that going for you? I mean you're obviously still running on a conscience."

Sam shrugged, "I think he came close but yeah it's still there. Although I've never seen Cas get that dark and ensue a First-Testament-God-like wrath on us."

"Yeah well I'm starting to wonder if Cas might have been a closet S&M pervert," Dean replied cynically intertwining his fingers and placing them behind his head, palms out, like a make-shift pillow.

"Well I think it's safe to say that we…" Sam began but he stopped short. There, just outside on a sidewalk across the road from their house, was none other than the Elric brothers. Ed walking slightly ahead of Al, once again adorning his red coat, but what Sam hadn't noticed before was the black pants, shirt and boots. He wore the gloves Sam had noticed last night and his metallic hand clasped the handle of a large suitcase slung over his right shoulder. Alphonse walked with his usual clanking steps, all seven-some-odd-feet of armor towering over his older brother.

_You don't know a damn thing about it! Just stay the hell away from us you hear?_

Maybe so, but the familiarity Sam had felt each time he'd encountered either one or both of the Elrics was still there. Not to mention the two of them exhibited some characteristics that mirrored some of his and Dean's own aspects. He may not know much, but the four of them were connected somehow.

"Sam?"

Sam didn't turn to answer; instead he got up and went straight to the front door, yelling over his shoulder that he would be back later. He didn't have much time, the source for the information he'd wondered about was walking down the street, and out of the city from the looks of that suitcase.

He ignored Dean and Bobby calling his name, shutting the door behind him and running across the street. Ed and Al were facing away from him so they didn't notice him approaching, but Sam made quick work to tap Al on his back then dart around the nearest corner. Sam hadn't forgotten Ed's warning from earlier, but he had the feeling that Al would talk to him, he just needed to get him alone somewhere. Al stopped for a moment, turning to glance behind him, noticed Sam standing suspiciously behind the corner of the café they'd just passed, and gave an involuntary gasp.

Ed heard the sound, and turned to face his brother, curiosity making his youthful face smooth as opposed to the stressful looks that brought about a crease or two in his forehead, something Sam had wondered was customary for him. "What is it Al?"

The younger Elric whipped his head around to look at his brother, "I um….I just remembered I left something…..back at the hotel." He placed a hand at the back of his head and rubbed it nervously, motioning for Ed to go on, "You go ahead and get our tickets for the train, I'll catch up with you."

Ed looked skeptical, dropping the suitcase so that it dangled next to him. "Are you sure?" his voice was gentile, which surprised Sam and yet didn't surprise him considering that Ed was talking to his brother, seemingly of the belief that it was just the too of them, like they were the only two people in the world that mattered. Just each other. Sam recognized that kind of brotherly atmosphere, exactly how many times had he and his own brother had these kinds of moments?

Mini-Dean indeed.

"Uh yeah, I'll be okay," Al nodded; well it was more of an entire upper-body nod since he couldn't exactly nod his head. "I'll just run back to our room, be back before you know it."

Ed seemed wary of his brother going back alone, but he inevitably shrugged and turned to walk off, waving at Al as he went, "Hurry it up though, we've already been delayed in going to Lior, we can't keep dodging alright?"

"See you," Al called after him, turning to walk in the opposite direction. After he'd gone several feet he glanced behind him, when Ed disappeared around the bend and was gone, Al made straight for Sam who'd been waiting in the shadows of an alley.

"What are you doing here?" The younger Elric glanced back in the direction Ed had gone, "If brother finds out I'm talking to you he'll be upset."

Sam huffed, a half-grin on his face, "So he told you about our little spat earlier huh?"

Alphonse went to stand before the hunter, "He told me enough."

Sam nodded, the grin disappearing to make room for a frown, "Look Al I'm not here to cause any trouble, but you have to understand."

"Understand what?"

"Understand that I know a thing or two about spirit attachments, or soul-attachments as far as you're concerned," Sam nodded pointedly at Al's armor. "Not to mention I'm a little curious about this thing you call Alchemy…among other things."

"You want to learn Alchemy?" Al seemed surprised, as if he'd expected Sam to request something more sinister or underhanded. "That could take a while, it's not something you just pick up over night."

"I realize that," Sam pointed out. "But we're kind of in a rut here without many resources and we need _something_ to go by, I figured this Alchemy thing could be that something."

Al placed a hand on his head, obviously struggling between wanting to help Sam and his loyalty to his brother. "But we're leaving soon, today in fact. We've already had to postpone this trip once to help bring down Isaac the Freezer."

"The State Alchemist?" Sam queried, "That's actually another thing that I was curious about, more specifically those ice walls. How is it that he could create something like that? And on that scale? I mean, did it have something to do with all the red light?"

Al's head snapped back for a split second, he made another gasping noise and Sam was sure he'd struck on something. So there was more to all this than he'd originally thought.

"But above all that," He went on, not giving Al time to brush him off again. "I want to know about you and your brother. What happened that made you lose your whole body, and Ed two limbs?"

Another gasp, this one more audible, and Al was taking a step back. It was obvious that he was debating whether to walk away again or finally open up about his past. Sam hated to pressure him like this, but they were running out of time and who knew when the five of them would run into each other again.

"You…..you said you know something about….spirit attachments," Al began, his voice once again that soft innocent sound of a lost little boy. "What did you mean exactly? Do you….know about me? Do you understand who…what…..I am?"

Realizing that his answer had a depth to it that only Alphonse could truly comprehend, Sam understood how much the question meant to him. If Al's soul, as Isaac had said, was indeed infused with the armor, than the boy would certainly feel as though he wasn't exactly human. Sam was familiar with that sensation, that state of mind, of being something other than human with human-like qualities. If you had never experienced it than you could never understand the detached feeling of it, the out-of-body sensation where the most trivial functioning's' were a constant reminder that you weren't exactly…well….normal.

"Yes I do," Sam replied, his voice soothing to the younger Elric. "I've dealt with plenty of things in my life Al. Some I could probably explain, but the rest would be too much for anyone, even someone like you, to handle." He looked back in the direction of the house, his thoughts trailing through years of running and gunning with anything and everything supernatural, "Spirit attachments are a form of 'imprinting', or the soul's attempt to leave a trace of itself behind when a person dies. It usually happens when you have some kind of unfinished business and you basically, but unconsciously, will yourself to want to stay behind to finish whatever business you have. But…"

"But what?"

Al wasn't going to like this part, but Sam was asking for honesty, in return it was only right to give it back. "Some spirit attachments are formed with a violent death, when someone was brutally murdered or they committed suicide. The spirit doesn't necessarily have to be attached to an object to remain behind; sometimes they'll just wander around the location they were killed, just a ghost. The connection isn't always stable; sometimes it takes next to nothing to…..get rid of them for good. And sometimes they just…..go out on their own."

Al was silent for a moment, soaking all this in with a mixture of disbelief and a sadness that could only be expected from someone like him. Naturally he would be afraid knowing all this; he himself was a spirit attachment, technically, with the risk of some sort of malfunction. Things like that happened, and he was rightly afraid of it, but Alphonse was different. He didn't fit the pattern of a normal spirit attachment, not completely that is.

"Our mom…..." he began, placing a hand on his head again, remembering. "She died when Ed and I were just boys…a sickness took her…...We couldn't live without her so…..so we paid for a teacher to show us how to do Alchemy…."

He paused, seemingly lost in some painful memory. Sam cautiously prompted with, "And then what?"

Al seemed to refocus on his audience, "Well, we learned Alchemy….then we came back home and…...we tried to bring her back."

"How?"

"Human Transmutation," Al replied, the story becoming easier for him to tell now that he'd grown a little more comfortable with the topic of conversation. "It's taboo for alchemists but it's also a form of bioalchemy that involves the process of attempting to bring something to life…..or in our case…bringing someone _back_ to life."

"Did it work?...Sort of?"

Al shook his head, "What you have to understand is that Alchemy follows certain laws, because it's not magic, it's science. The more dominant of those laws is Equivalent Exchange, which basically means that you can't create something from nothing. The materials of your input have to equal in mass and volume with the product you want to create. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, "How did that effect your transmutation?"

"It backfired," Al answered him, the innocent-vibe depleting as he took on a more serious tone. "One thing we learned that night was nothing could be given in exchange for mom's soul, and nothing could equal the material needed to create human life. For that alone, my brother lost his left leg and I lost my entire body," he placed a hand on the general area of his stomach. "In an attempt to keep me here, Ed used his right arm as material to transmute my soul to this suit of armor. I couldn't imagine what it must've been like for him…lying in his own blood…trying to save me….." his voice broke and he covered his metal face in both hands, quietly sobbing to himself, or at least sounding as though here were. Even without the necessary physical attributes required for crying, Alphonse still had a way to do it, and he did so now.

Loss. Sacrifice. Giving away a part of oneself to keep one's family by their side. It was all too familiar to Sam, simply because he remembered certain things that were parallel with what Al had just told him. Losing their mother when he and Dean were just kids, Sam still missing her even though he had no real memories of what she was like. Dean's sacrifice to bring Sam back to life, the price he paid to keep his brother by his side. Sam understanding the feeling of having a body but no soul, the exact reverse of Al's situation, which seemed worst compared to what Sam had gone through. He'd had a physical body to survive with, just no soul to occupy it. Sam couldn't imagine not having a body made of flesh and bone. Even though Al didn't need to eat or even sleep, and didn't tire out, it was still painful to bear the weight of the price they'd paid for crossing boundaries.

Sam looked at Al, watching him cry tearless-ly, and all he could see was a younger version of himself. They may not have attempted to bring their own mother back, but he and Dean knew a thing or two about dying and being resurrected, the burden of it and how much it cost you. More than anything Sam recognized in Al what he'd always recognized in himself; that feeling of being lost and seemingly alone. If you had never experienced what it felt like to be considered "human" when there was so much about you that made you less than human, you couldn't possibly understand.

"Al…" Sam disrupted the boys anguish, "Listen to me, because this is going to sound completely crazy and I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to have us committed." He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, "My brother and I…along with our friend, you know the guy with the hat?...We're not from here."

Al lifted his head to look at Sam, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that….well…this isn't even our…our world really…." To Sam's own ears he sounded crazy, but how else could he explain this?

Al continued to stare at him, his hands suspended at waist-level, baffled.

Sam ran his lower lip through his teeth, "I know how nuts that sounds but you've got to believe me. It's not even that we're not from this world, we're not even from the same _time_ as you," when Al continued to stare Sam fished into his pocket and retrieved his cellphone. "Look at this," he held it out to Al, "It's a cellphone. It's like a regular phone, but portable; no cord needed."

Al reached out, cautiously, and took the device from Sam. He started pressing on the tiny buttons of Sam's Blackberry (he'd had to replace his other phone after their encounter with Samuel Colt), the screen lit up and Al had a sudden intake of breathe as he began fiddling with the phone.

"I'm from the future," Sam told the younger Elric. "The year 2012 actually, at least in our alternate universe." He approached Al carefully, gesturing with his hands, "You've got to believe me Al, I'm not crazy. Anything you want to know just ask and I'll tell you but right now there are more important things to worry about."

Al stopped his fiddling to look at Sam in what he guess was a suspicious manner, "Which is what?"

"How to get us home," Sam answered him. "More importantly, what could possibly be powerful enough to get us here in the first place."

Al looked at him for a moment, then his gaze swept back to Sam's cellphone, cradled in the palm of his "gloved" hand. Al swiped his thumb over the buttons, the screen lighting up again to reveal the time (well the time it would be if they were in Sam's world), as well as a flickering message on the screen indicating that the battery was running low.

"That just means that it's almost out of power," Sam replied when Al had glanced at him pointedly upon seeing the flickering message.

The younger Elric bent forward on one knee, used his index finger to draw a circle on the concrete with a piece of chalk that Sam hadn't known he'd been carrying. He drew two circles, one inside of another, with three triangles at three different points over both circles. Then he drew one large triangle overlapping the other shapes, set the chalk piece aside, placed Sam's phone in the middle of the matrix, then placed both hands at the edge of the circle. The same burst of blue light that Sam had witnessed just last night erupted around the edges of the circle, like miniature flickers of blue lighting strikes dancing across the interior of the design. It went on for about a second or two before Al removed his hands and picked up the phone, which appeared to be unchanged, and hand in back to Sam.

He took the device from him, immediately pressing buttons and looking it over to see what Al had done to it. When the screen lit up Sam realized that the battery had gone from having only about a fifth of power left to having a full bar. He looked up open-mouthed at Al, dumbstruck but in awe of what had just happened.

Al merely shrugged, or what could pass for shrugging, "It wasn't that hard to figure out. I just gave it a little power boost that's all."

Sam was afraid to make a wrong move at this point, but it seemed as if… "So you believe me?"

Al appeared at a loss for words for a moment, turning his head to face back into the street, his right hand closing absent mindedly into a fist. "I'm not sure exactly…..but you don't seem to be lying about where you're from…or the year it seems."

Sam let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. This was good, now if he could only get Ed somewhat on board with his brother's ideology.

"And if you want to talk about crazy," Al reached up to place one hand on either side of his head, twisting it slightly back and forth, then popping it off altogether. "I could probably give lessons on crazy, in case you haven't noticed," he leaned forward to reveal his hollow insides, "It's quite insane to have a walking-talking suit of armor with no body inside of it."

Sam stared at the emptiness that was Al's armor, and the red symbol located at the base of where his neck should be, just below the back-end of the helmet. "Is that drawn in blood?" he asked, suddenly resisting the urge to reach out and touch it.

"My brother's blood," Al told him, pointing at the symbol with a free hand, the gesture seeming almost ghost-like now that he was doing it headless. "That's my Blood Seal; it's the medium between my soul and this armor. That's how my brother bonded my soul, using his own blood to draw it. If you destroy that, you can kill me."

Sam frowned, "Why would you tell me something like that?"

"Because," Al straightened up and replaced his helmet back. "Even though I don't trust Sam, I also don't think you're the dubious type. You could've ratted me out already…but you didn't."

"I don't see the point in it really," Sam chuckled, reveling in the sensation of laughter since he hadn't had much reason to laugh lately. "Besides after what I've just told you, you probably owed one me anyway."

Al reciprocated Sam's chuckling, "Equivalent Exchange."

"So you'll help then?"

"I want to Sam," Al started off, "but – "

"I thought I told you to stay away from us."

That accusatory statement came from the sudden appearance of Edward Elric, suitcase at his feet, arms crossed over his chest, that same look of disgruntlement on his face as he glanced first at Sam (with suspicion) to Al (with disbelief).

"Brother," Al replied, turning to face the eldest Elric more directly. "Sam was just explaining to me –"

"It doesn't matter what he says Al," Ed interrupted him, "we don't have time –"

"Well you're going to have to make time," Sam cut him off, his voice stern knowing that Ed had already worked himself into some kind of typical-teenage rebellious attitude now that Sam was present.

"Don't go ordering me around!" Ed shot back, waving a hand in front of him in an angry gesture. "I put up with enough of that from Mustang!"

Sam would've asked who Mustang was, but at the moment he didn't particularly care. "What I mean is there's a lot more that you don't know, that I can tell you. But I need you to hold back on going anywhere for the time being and stick around with us for a while."

Ed refolded his arms across his chest, "And why should I? Because you've managed to manipulate my brother into siding with you?"

"No," Sam retorted, "I want you to stick around because I could tell a thing or two about resurrecting someone that would make your head spin…among other endless heaps of crap that you should probably know about."

Ed looked taken aback, his golden eyes widened in genuine surprise. He continued to stare at Sam with suspicion, his mistrust evident in the way he narrowed his gaze on the younger Winchester, but he eventually exhaled. "We'll give you a few hours but then we have to leave, the next train to Lior leaves tonight."

"I don't think so," Sam replied immediately, "that's not going to work."

"What then?"

"You might want to start unpacking Elric," Sam gave a crooked grin; "this conversation is going to take a while."


	8. Famous Last Words

**A/N: This chapter didn't turn out as I'd hoped but there was really no other way I could write it where it would fit the storyline and not seem to be either too random or out of place for the characters, etc.**

**Also I understand that people are confused as to why I made it so that the boys ended up in this AU minus their special weapons and to sum it up this way; it would've been too convenient for them to have those weapons on hand so easily, and especially considering that I had neglected to mention them for several chapters, it just would've been too easy to write them in, and part of the issue here is to make the boys vulnerable. They're in a new world, where the usual weapons don't work as effectively, so I had to make that vulnerability show, i.e. no special demon-killing knife or Archangel's blade. Plus there's also the issue of neither of them having the knife on hand when facing Castiel in the season finale, and Sam merely dropped the Archangel blade in surprise to Cas attacking him.**

**And as far as the "how" and "why" they're in the FMA-world? The answer is coming, trust me... :3**

**...**

"_Vampires_?"

"Yes Ed, vampires."

"And they do what exactly?"

"Well their favorite pastime is to feed off your coronary artery. After that? Whatever it is, it's a product of boredom, selfish nature, or both."

"You mean…you mean they drink….._blood_?"

It felt as though they'd run through the same material over and over again, Dean bringing up certain concepts and Ed reverting back to older topics again and again due to his endless flock of questions. One after another and it never ceased, there was just too much to learn, and whether or not he actually believed any of it was a mystery onto itself. He certainly seemed curious that was for sure, but he was guarded, holding himself back from becoming too involved into the conversation.

_He still doesn't trust us_, Sam thought.

"Blood. In various formats," Dean wasn't exactly the type of person to give a practical answer sans sarcasm, a characteristic evident not only in their own world but this one as well. He knew this must be overwhelming for the Elric's, but the tension from the past few days…..hell the past few _years_ actually….was coming to a boil. He just didn't have the energy to go about this in a tactful, and quite frankly neither did Sam or Bobby, who sat patiently nearby to answer any questions if possible.

Al was the one Sam was mostly concerned for, given the hunter's knowledge of the spiritual realm and its connection with the living as well as inanimate objects. He was a fascinating yet scary specimen of "human", a soul bonded to a suit of armor. One who could walk and talk without a living body, but not only that, he could remember things, think for himself. But he knew that the younger Elric was unstable in this form, like most spirit attachments there was a chance of a backfire. At any given moment Al's soul could discontinue its connection with the armor, and where he would go from there was a mystery.

Sam knew all Hell would break loose (again) if word got out into their world that soul attachment was a possibility. Thinking about the immortal advantages of such a form, it would be total chaos back home if the demons ever considered bonding themselves to moveable inanimate objects. No flesh and blood body meant a form that wasn't easily injured nor worn down due to certain physical attributes such as hunger, thirst, sex, etc. It was no wonder the boys kept Al's true identity a secret, if things could get that bad in their world with soul attachment knowledge adrift, what with the alchemical advantages things would be far worse in this alternate universe. Sam couldn't even begin to imagine it all, it made his head hurt to think about it.

Or maybe that was just the tug of the old Wall again. His head had stopped its incessant pounding some time ago but it resurfaced every now and then with a dull ache that throbbed against his skull like the worst kind of headache. There and gone again, like a whisper, reminding him that things were as bad inside his head as they were outside in the real world…..or at least this one…..well…theirs too.

His focusing on their current situation, the newfound concepts of alchemy as well as the Elric's back-story came in handy to distract him from his own problems. The last thing he needed was another breakdown when he needed more than anything to stay vertical and alert. Thankfully there was a pharmacy just up the road from their (shudder) pink house, he'd have to make a stop and grab some aspirin if they had it.

"'Various formats'?" Al inquired, comically perched on the couch with his hands in his lap, seeming as though he could break anything and everything in the room if he made the wrong move. "Meaning _what_ exactly?"

"Well they mostly prefer human," Bobby moved in to answer, "but some of them will settle for a dog or even a mountain lion."

"That's…just….._sick_," Ed made a face, seemingly on the verge of throwing up, but he quickly recovered. "And you hunt all these things? Ghosts? _Werewolves_?...And what the hell is a _Pagan god_?"

They would be at this all night if they told them every little detail, but Sam had warned the Elrics that this might take some time, even though there was a slight chance Ed would just ditch the whole thing altogether and tell them to go screw themselves. That seemed a more fitting Edward Elric-type approach as opposed to this "okay I'll bite" routine he was pulling, leading Sam to believe the boy was either just humoring them for the sake of his own entertainment, or he had something else up his red sleeve.

"Well if you think vampires are 'sick' wait until you hear what Pagan's like to do in their spare time," Dean replied flippantly, leaning back to lounge on the other end of the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Let's not overload them okay?" Bobby interjected, looking at Dean pointedly with that fatherly-type authoritative expression of his, to which Dean automatically complied with a mumbled "whatever". Bobby rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"Yes Ed we hunt these things," Sam inserted his two-cents in. "It's not the greatest job in the world but someone has to do it."

"But why?" Ed challenged, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of an understanding, something Sam couldn't quite place. "Why you? Why not let someone else handle it?"

There had been so many times when Sam had asked himself that question, countless moments where he wondered if it was even worth the effort of getting up each morning, or instead of sleeping they'd go on an all-nighter and then some with a maximum of a few hours of sleep in a given week's average. Especially now he questioned it, with his noggin on the verge of a meltdown and their world's inevitable chance of collapsing, Castiel's disastrous setback, not to mention the billions and billions of lives that were on their hands simply because they could tackle the evil that threatened to annihilate the planet whereas no ordinary human could. What made it worth it? What was it that gave them the strength to get out of bed and hunt the bad guys each night? They didn't get paid for it, didn't receive any thanks (mostly), and their lives were shit; just complete and utter shit.

Sam recalled those times where he'd managed to break free of the hunter lifestyle, to find his own place, make his own way into the world. Somehow it had always managed to backfire, erupting right into his face, leaving him slightly crippled and practically crawling back to his family. He could never truly get away from it; no matter how hard he had tried he had never succeeded in eradicating such a way of life from his everyday existence. It was in his blood, it was the only lifestyle he knew he could commit too without a doubt, there was just no other way around it. But how could he explain all that to Ed without diving into the more personal aspects of what they hunted? How their family had been torn and shredded again and again by the very things they killed, and yet they still pressed on, fighting the good fight for another day. No, Ed wouldn't understand all that, not even Al could understand it. There was just too much to the story.

So what then?

"What makes it worth it for you Ed?" Sam asked him instead, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed where he'd been standing for the past hour or so they'd been at this little interrogation. "Why do you still have hope in your brother? Most people can't handle it when something this drastic happens to their own family, and they have to adjust big time. Why do you keep at it?" Blue-green eyes collided with skeptical gold ones, Sam looking at Ed directly now, "We're the only ones that can do it because we're the only ones that understand what makes this life what it is. No one else can do it, because they don't get it, and "getting it" requires more than just knowing how to fight and shoot things. You stick with your brother because you get _him_ right? No one else could handle that except you."

Ed simply stared at him, all traces of humor having left his face, and that sense of understanding Sam had noticed now blossomed into a look that was very familiar to him, or at the very least it was a look that he often saw on Dean once in a while. It was that silent battle cry expression his brother got when things were getting bad and it was a "now or never" type situation.

_If I'm gonna go down, I'm gonna go down swinging._

Sam hadn't heard those words in what seemed like a lifetime, but they rang loud and clear now as they did then. If there was ever one thing, just one single thing, that he could count on the most from his brother, it was the fact that he wouldn't give up. That he would fight the good fight until he was left in a bloody mess on the floor, though Sam had the insane idea that Dean would continue fighting even as a ghost. It just wasn't in his nature to give up, right up until the last minute.

Ed understood that concept; Sam could see that in the mellow of his golden eyes and the silence with which he presented to them as a means of answering the question. The room was quiet for a moment, save for the random faint sounds of the city life that bustled past just outside these walls; cars driving by, people walking to and fro either with their families or a friend. Dogs barked, children laughed, couples kissed, siblings screamed and chased each other, it was a world oblivious to the chaos that thrived just below its surface. The atmosphere of this alternate universe mirrored that of their own world; so much going on underneath their senses, and yet only those with experience of what was truly out there could detect what lay beneath.

Change Ed and Al's names and this would be an almost uncanny copy of their lives but with an alchemical twist.

"So…" Bobby interrupted the awkward silence by clearing his throat, "How's about that Alchemy lesson hmm?"

Ed and Al watched them closely for a moment, turning to give each other knowing looks, then redirecting their gazes back to the three hunters. Ed leaned forward onto his leg with his chin propped up in his metallic-gloved hand, a sly grin curving its way like a snake onto his youthful face.

"I don't think so."

Dean frowned, scoffed, shook his head and looked at Ed as though he'd spoken in a foreign language, "Come again Danny DeVito?"

Ed arched an eyebrow, the only indication of a response to the "DeVito" bit, "What's the problem?"

"I thought you said you'd help us," Bobby replied, agitated, "what's with the turn around?"

"I said I'd listen to what you have to say," Ed answered calmly. "I never said I'd believe any of it or that I'd help you learn Alchemy, besides" he stood up, brushing off his coat, "you need a qualified teacher to do that and I'm not that person."

"Brother…" Al began, but Ed cut him off.

"No Al, we've delayed enough by entertaining these guys and their crazy stories."

"But Ed-"

"I said no Al!"

Alphonse stared at his brother for a moment, seemingly debating whether or not to argue, but he inevitably gave in, turning his head to face the floor with a submissive sigh.

Ed, understanding that his brother was no longer going to object, made a move to leave, but Sam cut him off before he could reach the door. "So that's it then?"

Edward's head snapped back, he pointed an accusatory metal finger at Sam, "You drop in on us, learn a few things, attempt to use them to manipulate us into working with you, and you expect me to believe everything you say?"

Sam shook his head, "I'm not asking for you to believe us I'm just asking for you to _help_ us. Or is that too much for you?" His tone had a bit of its own sarcasm creeping in with each passing moment that his anger was flaring.

"Oh let it go Sam," Dean rose to his feet as well, heading towards the kitchen. "It's obvious he's got beef with us so just let him at it," he pulled a bottle of tequila from one of the cabinets, pouring himself a shot-glass full, "I'm not big on hanging out with a couple of kids with issues anyway, too much of a headache."

Ed whipped his head around to glare at Dean, admonishing in a menacing tone, "You better watch yourself Winchester."

"Bring it on short-stop," Dean countered automatically, taking a sip of his drink.

Ed made a move to go after him but Sam grabbed him by the shoulder, at which Ed knocked his hand away like a rebellious child.

Sam took a step back, "What the hell's your problem? You act like I'm out to get you or something!"

"For all I know that's _exactly_ what you're trying to do," Ed glared at Sam. "What makes you think that simply because you know about my brother that gives you the right to start asking for favors?"

"What about Equivalent Exchange?" Sam pointed out, "Isn't that some kind of a guideline you Alchemists live by?"

"Don't try that with me," Ed retorted, clenching his hand into a fist. "You don't have anything I need so what's the point? I tell you what you need to know and you tell me nothing? That's not Equivalent Exchange! That's _bullshit!_"

"What about what _we _know?" Bobby piped in, rising to his feet from one of the armchairs to stomp around and stand next to Sam in order to face Edward. "Do you honestly think we're a couple of ignorants here? Well let me tell _you_ something kid," Bobby moved to stand right in front of Ed, towering over him slightly, "I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I've been around a time or two and believe _me_ when I say I know some things that would make your _skin_ crawl!"

"Is that so?" Ed had to crane his neck to look at the elder hunter, but he maintained a sense of bravado nonetheless.

Bobby looked him square in the eye, "You're _damn right_ it is."

Edward was silent for a moment, his eyes darting from Bobby to Sam and back again, even casting a furtive glance in Dean's direction, who had finished off his drink and was prowling his way around the counter to stand in between Sam and Bobby. He stood there staring at the eldest Elric, arms folded across his chest, that same challenging expression he sometimes got when he was on the verge of provoking someone into making a move. "So what's it going to be Elric? Ditch or dive?"

Ed narrowed his gaze on Dean, "What exactly do you think you have to offer me?" He rocked on his heels to lean slightly away from the three of them bearing down on him, "More sarcastic remarks? Empty promises?"

"Empty promises?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows, "as in what?"

"I don't know it might have something to do with this nonsense you mentioned about resurrection?" Ed's expression was incredulous, "Sounds dead-end to me, there's no such thing as bringing someone back to life."

Dean shifted his weight, his discomfort with that statement noticeable only to Sam and Bobby, but regardless he still responded, "Oh trust me pal, it's not as dead-end as you might think. Not to say that it's a smart thing to do."

"Then tell me how it's done," Edward replied instantly, his expression now neutral.

"No way," Dean shook his head. "I'm only going as far as to tell you it's possible, no way in hell am I telling you how it's done."

"Because it _can't_ be done that's why," Ed countered, his neutral look turning skeptical. "Trust me I've been down that road, I know it's not possible."

"And I'm telling you _I've_ been down that road and it _is _possible," Dean's voice was beginning to gain an octave or two.

"Where's the proof?" Ed scoffed at Dean's efforts, "There's no such thing as the ability to create life outside of natural order, much less give life back to something that's lost it."

"Where's your proof that it _can't_ be done?" Dean inquired challengingly, "Where we come from there's more to the world than some stupid parlor tricks performed by a blue light, trust me on that one."

Ed sighed heavily, reaching into his coat to pull out a small leather-bound booklet, it had bits of paper sticking out of it and reminded Sam strongly of housewives writing down information regarding a new recipe for a meal or drink in their own little books. He opened it up with a flip of his hand, thumbing through a couple of pages, stopping on one page in particular to recite: "Water, 35 liters. Carbon, 20 kilograms. Ammonia, 4 liters. Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorous, 800 grams. Salt, 250 grams. Saltpeter, 100 grams. Sulfur, 80 grams. Fluorine, 7.5, iron, 5, silicon, 3 grams, and trace amounts of 15 other elements."

Dean arched an eyebrow, "And what the hell is all that?"

"It's all the components that make up the average adult human body," Ed replaced the small book inside his jacket. "Scientist have spent years trying to crack the code on creating human life but the end results are always the same; nothing. The only way to successfully create a human being is by the traditional methods."

"You mean sex of course," Dean asked pointedly.

Ed's faced turned beet red but he carried on as though Dean's words hadn't bothered him, "Those components can be bought off the market with a child's wages, so it's not hard to gather the necessary materials to create a human. We really are cheap to make."

"By your standards maybe," Bobby replied sarcastically, "There's more to it than the scientific point of view Elric."

"Maybe so, but what other way is there?"

"The way that involves less bullshit maybe?" Dean retorted, "What's next, are you going to tell me we evolved from apes?"

"Well….actually," Ed began, but Bobby cut him off.

"We're not about to get into some kind of Evolutionary debate here alright?" He folded his arms across, "save that for the professors at Yale or Harvard, right now I'm more concerned about our next move considering it's lacking an alchemy-boost."

"Sorry," Ed shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, appearing indifferent to their predicament. "Can't help you. If you're really in as much trouble as you seem write a letter to the Fuhrer, maybe he'll make a charity case out of you."

"Brother," Al replied sternly.

"Wow," Dean chuckled, a sinister grin creeping over his face, "you sure are cocky for a red-coated midget."

Not exactly the best thing he could've said.

Ed's face when from blank, to white as the color drained for a split-second, to a pink that matched the wallpaper of the room, ending in a red so vicious it matched the color of his coat perfectly. He was furious, enough to point at Dean with his metallic hand and roar, "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RED-COATED MIDGET YOU GHOST-HUNTING FREAK?"

Dean's eyes had widened at Ed's outburst, he even appeared caught off guard by it, but his humor was certainly not misplaced. He glanced at Sam, "Spastic little runt isn't he?"

One of the things they should've purchased at the store was a shovel, mainly because Dean was digging himself into a hole more and more each time he opened his mouth. Sam hadn't thought it was possible but Ed had turned an even deeper shade of red, it was a wonder steam wasn't coming out of the kid's ears.

What happened next occurred so rapidly it made Sam's head spin; Ed clapped his hands together, the sound of fleshing slapping against metal echoing through the room. He touched his left hand to his right wrist and, with a burst of blue light, transmuted a blade out of his own metallic arm. The blade slid out from beneath his sleeve, ripping the white glove from his hand. He crouched a bit, legs spread and slightly bent, what Sam could only guess was a battle stance.

But Ed hadn't been the only one to draw a weapon, at the same time that Elric had produced his blade Dean had pulled out a weapon of his own. It was a handgun, semi-automatic, military edition that he'd had tucked away in his jacket. Most of the handguns they'd purchased were standard for Amestris, used frequently by military personnel, some even kept the guns at hand when they were off duty.

Sam and Bobby had leapt out of the way just in time for Edward's metal arm to shift into a blade that took up most of his forearm and hung out over his hand. Al had leapt to his feet, his hand outstretched as though he meant to lay it on Ed's shoulder but was afraid to, "Brother please!"

Bobby's hands were held up, palms out, in a submissive gesture, "Whoa take it easy. Let's not start ganking each other over some silly remark."

"Oh let him go Bobby," Dean scoffed, "it's obvious he's been itching to sink his fist into some poor bastard's face at any time, he just needed an excuse to do it. Go ahead kid, make your move. But I can't promise you I won't take off a portion of your skull if you try it."

Sam's head whipped around to glare at his brother in disapproval, "Shut up Dean!"

But Al was taking matters into his own hands, ginormous though they were. He used the momentary distraction to position himself in between Ed and Dean, his hands raised in the same passive format as Bobby's. "Please stop," he pleaded, "Don't shoot my brother. Please."

"Move it Al, this has nothing to do with you," Dean warned, his focus on a point just past Al's waist-level where he could see a smidgen of Ed's profile.

"Get out of the way Al!" Ed shouted, but his brother ignored him.

"If you plan on shooting Ed than I don't plan on moving," Al straightened up, placing his hands at his sides in a stubborn fashion. "Just know if you shoot, the bullet will ricochet off my chest and probably come back to hurt _you_."

Dean seemed to waver for a moment, his gaze going from Al, to the bit of red-coat that was Ed he could see past the gap between Al's arm and waist, and back to Al again. He kept the gun trained on the two of them, finger poised on the trigger, and when he finally came to a decision he lowered the weapon, allowing the barrel to aim towards the floor.

"Alright fine. Take your little runt of a brother and get going. Forget you ever saw us."

"DON'T... CALL… ME… A RUNT." Ed came around his brother, clapped his hands together once again, then immediately lowering to the floor, placing his hands against the wooden surface. A burst of blue light and the floor came apart beneath them, Sam and Bobby leaping out of the way, Dean jumping back to avoid the hole that had just formed right below his feet. He toppled over, falling back onto his rear, rolling out of the way to avoid the second wave of blue light that shook the house and the hole grew wider and appeared to be following Dean as he jumped to his feet and dove out of the living room to hide behind the door in the dining room.

Sam darted back into the living room, leaping over furniture to make his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, where he knelt down and out of sight just as the third wave swept through the other half of the living room knocking over the coffee table, couch as well as the armchairs. Bobby had moved to hide with Dean in the dining room, but whether or not he'd made it Sam didn't know, the living room took up most of the front part of the house, and the dining room entryway from this side was out of view from the kitchen.

"Ed!" Sam heard Al yell from somewhere off, "What are you doing? You're destroying the house!"

"He was going to _shoot_ me Al!" Ed roared back, "A maimed house is the least of his worries!"

"But he wouldn't have held a gun to you if you hadn't threatened him!"

"Now's not the time for morals! Where'd they go anyway?"

Sam heard Al mutter something incoherent, but he was sure the boy was quietly reprimanding his brother for flying off the handle like that. Sam felt like yelling at Dean for doing his own "flying", but now wasn't the time. If Ed was capable of tearing the house apart using Alchemy, there was no telling what else he was capable of. That little trick he pulled with making a blade out of his own arm had taken Sam by surprise, he hadn't expected Ed could do that, but then again he was an Alchemist. There was no telling what he could do once he set his mind to it.

At risk of receiving some more of the backlash from Ed and Dean's little spat; Sam peeked cautiously around the corner. He spotted Al instantly, standing in the middle of the living room facing towards the hallway that lead down the center of the house. The younger Elric had a hand pressed to the back of his head, a gesture Sam instantly recognized as a sign of him being nervous. He was looking pointedly in the direction of the hallway, leaving Sam to think…..

He spun around and got to his feet in time to see Ed standing in the doorway of the kitchen that lead out into the central hallway, brandishing his bladed right arm out in front of him as though expecting Sam to attack him. The younger Winchester held up his hands, going head-to-head with Edward wasn't the smartest decision to make.

"Hold up, just take it easy."

"Take it easy?" Ed mocked him, "Your brother just threatened to kill me and you want me to take it easy?"

"You're not the only one he's done that to okay?" Sam's voice was rising right along with Ed's, "Believe me he's threatened to knock me out a time or two, it's the product of being brothers."

"That's insane!" Ed shouted

"No one is going to hurt you!" Sam bellowed, losing his patience. "Why do you have to go into attack-mode for every little damn thing?"

"Brother! Stop!" Sam heard Al shout but he wasn't going to divert his gaze from Edward's to see him.

"Did you forget that I saved your ass?" Sam challenged the blonde-haired boy.

"I never asked for your help so I don't owe you a _damn thing!_" Ed fired back, swiping his outstretched blade as he spoke.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. This was like dealing with a younger version of Dean; always of the need to be right, always having to act the tough guy of the two of them. Hell it even echoed the adult version of his brother; just more hair and a hell of a lot less height. Give Dean a red coat and some white gloves, a few lessons in Alchemy to top it off, and he and Ed could be one dynamic duo of epic proportions. Sam would've laughed if he thought Ed wouldn't take it the wrong way and spaz out again.

Instead he stretched out his arms on either side of himself, taking a step forward as he presented his defenseless front in the field of Edward's strike-zone. "Fine. Take your best shot," he dared the older Elric.

Edward continued to glare at Sam, but made not move to attack him. Instead he straightened, clapped his hands together, placing his left hand to his right wrist once again. A burst of blue light ant the blade disappeared to reveal his metal arm once again. Though he held no weapons in hand, Ed still kept his hands clenched into fists, still untrusting of the younger Winchester, "I'm not going to kill you. I don't do that."

"I know that," Sam replied calmly.

Edward quirked an eyebrow, "Do you?"

"I heard you last night," Sam lowered his hands and took a cautionary step forward, "no one who is that passionate about saving people's lives would be quick to slice up a guy no matter how much he'd been rubbed the wrong way."

The corner of Ed's mouth twitched, whether in irritation or that he was on the verge of grinning Sam couldn't be sure. He certainly didn't appear amused in the slightest, but neither was he going berserk which was a plus.

"Brother?" Al's voice came in from where in the central hallway.

"It's okay Al," Ed called back to him, "we're getting out of here." He shoved his hands back into his jacket-pockets and turned to leave. Sam started to follow him, making sure to keep a bit of distance between them for safety's sake. He didn't want Ed flying off the handle again at the slightest provocation.

Just as they were entering the living room once again, Dean appeared through the dining room door, gun aimed at the older Elric, finger ready and waiting over the trigger. Al saw this, leapt around his brother to position himself in between Ed and Dean, arms spread out. "STOP!"

Dean's immediate reaction was based solely on survival instinct, his reflexes acting ahead of him as he squeezed the trigger. A loud bang, a noise that sounded like a PING, Dean's sudden stream of curses, the gun falling, firing again on accident, another bullet ricocheting off Al's body with the same PING noise. The bullet whizzing past Dean and sinking into the wall. Sam moving back to get away from Ed's sudden fist of fury, feeling the pain of the young boy's metallic knuckles sinking into his stomach just as his left fist connected with Sam's jaw. The younger Winchester stumbled back, taking a swing at Ed's face, missing by inches as the boy leapt out of the way and made for the door.

"Let's go Al!" He shouted after his brother, wrenching the door open, the knob banging against the wall. Al turned and darted outside to follow his brother. Ed reached inside, grabbed a hold of the door handle, and slammed it shut. There was a burst of blue light from outside, but whatever Ed had transmuted this time wasn't immediately perceivable, leaving the trio in suspense wondering about it as Bobby came out of the dining room as well, double-barrel shotgun in hand. Being careful to avoid the huge gap in the floor, he smashed a hole in one of the front windows, aimed it and was prepared to shoot, but didn't fire a single shot.

"What are you waiting for?" Dean hollered in his direction, "Put some lead in that shrimp!" He straightened up from picking his gun up off the floor, his left hand clasped to his right shoulder, where blood was beginning to seep through his jacket.

"He's too far up the road," Bobby pulled the gun out of the window and leaned it against the wall. "If I take a shot now we'll have a hard time explaining why we're trying to attack a military official."

"Dammit," Dean muttered to himself, moving over to sit against the arm of the only piece of furniture, a loveseat that hadn't been effected by the Alchemical tidal waves that had uprooted most of the living room floor. He took a moment to peek under the flap of his jacket to inspect the damage the bullet had made.

"How bad is it?" Bobby asked him, leaning over to take a look.

"Just got clipped, I'll live." Dean replied, shrugging out of his jacket as he prepared to dress the wound.

Sam shuffled through the debris in the floor and went to test the knob on the front door, having the distinct feeling that whatever Alchemy Ed had performed just now must've affected the front of the house in some way. His first try at opening the door and it remaining closed was proof enough that his theory had been right, his second attempt, given a more forceful approach, was equally as failing.

"Tell me that son of a bitch didn't jam the door," Dean commented, lifting up his shirt to apply some gauze to stop the minor bleeding.

"Seems like it," Sam replied, pounding a fist against the wood out of sheer petulance. "Why'd you have to shoot him?"

"It was an accident," Dean countered defensively, "I saw Al come out of nowhere and I was pulling the trigger before I had time to think. You would've done the same thing."

Sam, knowing that Dean was right, said nothing, instead he went about putting the downed furniture upright, kicking the hunks of wood that were scattered about around the edges of the great big holes in the floor on either side of the entryway. From the looks of it, when Ed had been standing in the middle of the room transmuting these gaps during his spaz-attack, he'd simply created a hole in one direction, then turned around and immediately did one in the opposite direction just as Sam had been escaping the living room. In the dim lighting down below you could see bits and pieces of the crawlspace from beneath the house. Which of course was pink like the rest of the house. Go figure.

"I owe that kid a blast of buckshot for this shit," Dean finished mopping up the blood with one gauze and applying another in preparation for taping it down.

"Let's figure out our next move before we go around shooting anybody okay?" Bobby helped to tear off small pieces of the tape, handing them to Dean so he could secure the gauze-patch on his shoulder.

"Well at least we know where they're going," Sam replied, setting the couch back on its feet and sliding it away from the edge of the hole.

"You mean Lior?" Bobby straightened, moving around the hole in the floor to retrieve his shotgun. "You want to follow those two? After what just happened?"

"You got a better idea?" Sam confronted him, making his way to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of the tequila Dean had drunk from earlier.

"Well if we're going to be the involuntary tag-team to their crazy antics then I think we should wait until they're slightly ahead of us before we start stalking them," Bobby pointed out.

"All I want is a chance to get back at the short one," Dean finished dressing the wound, then stood up to put his shirt back on followed by his jacket. "You two can do whatever the hell you want after that."

"Dean we're not going to keep doing this okay? He doesn't trust us enough as it is, you want to make it worse by starting a feud?" Sam asked him, downing his shot and pouring another.

"Seems to me as though the feud's already started Sammy," Dean replied acerbically, "You honestly think the next time they see us that Ed's not going to try and cut us to ribbons?"

"I'm just saying we can at least try to avoid it as much as possible," Sam corrected him.

"Right, that whole 'let's talk to them maybe they'll be understanding' thing you're so fond of. By the way how's that going for you now?"

"Are you two going to keep bickering like the Foreman's or are we gonna get moving?" Bobby interrupted before Sam could make a comeback.

One hour later and they had their duffels packed, a couple bottles of the good stuff stashed away in each just in case, each wrapped securely in the (pink) towels Dean had found in the bathroom, the only souvenir either one of them planned to take back with them from this house. Since Ed's transmutation had jammed the door, exiting out the front was no longer an option, and the funny thing about this house was…no back door. Queue Dean's elbow smashing into one of the back windows, knocking it completely out, and climbing through the hole he'd made. Thankfully the house was only one story, and the crawlspace wasn't that big, therefore the height from ground to the window wasn't too great that they couldn't simply drop down so long as they kept their knees bent. After making sure they had all they needed, the trio walked towards the front of the house, duffelbags slung over their shoulders, seemingly like three soldiers marching into a battle that lay in waiting for them.

"Are we driving there?' Dean glanced up and down the street at the cars parked along the sides of the road. "I could probably wire one of those and we can just do the usual road trip routine."

"Even if you could manage to get a hold of a car without alerting its owner to it being stolen," Bobby replied sarcastically, "do you even know how the hell we're getting to Lior after that?"

"Train station it is then," Sam adjusted the weight of his duffel and started off in the direction he'd seen the Elric's heading in earlier when they'd encountered each other in the street.

"And no making any choo-choo sounds okay kid?" Bobby reminded Dean in a mocking tone before following Sam, at which Dean frowned then gave a muttered "whatever" and something about hating "that damn blue train from the kid's show" as he started after the other two.


	9. We Didn't Start The Fire

**A/N:** Three things. 1) When the SOPA scare came around I actually thought it would be pointless to update because was at risk of being taken down. 2) My personal/college life has interfered with my want/drive to update, hence the lack of one for so long now. Finally 3) I have NO idea how to spell Brother Craig's real name, so I changed it up a bit. He wasn't listed as a character on the official Wikia site for FMA and I'll be honest I was too lazy to dig deeper and find out beyond that. Plus he's such a minor character so I didn't think it was a big deal.

"God's children, who live upon this land, pray in faith and ye shall be saved. Those that have lost their way, the Sun god Leto shall shine…"

"This guy sounds like a tool," Dean scoffed as he and his brother walked through the streets of Lior, where "God's message" was being blasted from every corner, every window, and store that was open. Father Cornello, the man behind the declarations with his booming voice, was supposedly a representative of the Sun God named Leto, the object of praise among the people of Lior as well as their "salvation". Sam was only paying attention to about half of what the priest was saying, his focus directed more on scanning the crowds searching for a suit of armor and his brother who had arrived in Lior a few hours before the trio did. The train ride had taken an entire night's worth of travel and some of this morning, and that was _after_ they'd spent some quality time (and cash) trying to get on the next available train out from Central to Lior.

"I keep getting flashbacks of that preacher guy we ran into…what was it seven years ago now?" Dean asked Sam.

"You mean when you had the heart-attack and he healed you?" Sam replied, still searching the crowds.

"He didn't heal me Sam, he had his reaper bitch to do it….and that wasn't even a healing, someone lost their life so that I could live remember?"

"Right," Sam was taken aback by a flash of red coat…but it turned out to be a construction worker wearing a maroon jacket. "What about it?"

"I'm just saying that ever since that incident…I don't have any faith in preachers or priests, or anyone that calls themselves a 'servant of God'."

"You trusted Cas and he used to be a 'servant of God'."

"Yeah and look where that got us….._here_," he waved his hand across the scene in front of them.

"So what's your point? You think this Cornello guy is a phony?"

Dean shrugged, "Could be in it for the cash, the fame, maybe both. I've heard of some of these "servants" getting some ass on the side, some chicks dig that holy-man vibe. But what I _do _know…is that I'm starving. That train ride wore my ass down, the least they could've done was given us snacks or something."

Sam sighed and nodded towards the intersection just ahead, "Looks like there's a small diner up that way."

"You mean the one with an assorted crowd standing in front of it like some kind of spectacle was going on?" Dean inquired cynically.

There was indeed a large crowd in front of the small diner, and it wasn't even a traditional diner, more or less it was one of those street-side food-court types of "restaurants" with bar stools. But it was open, and that's all that mattered to Dean….that _and_ the food better be good.

The crowd formed in front of the diner was in the shape of a circle, but it was hard to tell what was in the middle of it. But after a flash of blue light and a familiar somewhat squeaky voice, the boys instantly knew.

"Aw crap," Dean muttered under his breath.

"There see? How's that?" Sam heard Ed ask.

"It's a miracle! You've been touched by the Sun God, just like Father Cornello!" the second voice turned out to be the man behind the bar at the diner. He seemed middle-aged, with dark hair and a long mustache to match, the dark hair being covered by a dark green beanie. He wore a blue shirt covered by an apron, which was a beacon of the fact that he either owned or simply worked at the diner Sam and Dean had been aiming for…..until now.

"Touched by who now?" Ed responded, quickly followed by a comment from yet another familiar voice.

"It's not a miracle, it's Alchemy," Sam heard Al reply in his usual innocent-yet-mature-sounding way.

"Damn it all to _Hell_," Dean swore maliciously, "I was hoping to get a good meal in before we had to deal with those two mooks."

"Its what we're here for isn't it? To track them?" Sam shot back irritably, "Besides they haven't even seen us yet so until they do you can go ahead and eat some damn food. We're only tailing them for now."

"Speaking of tailing, d'you think Bobby will be able to find anything on those two kids?" Dean glanced behind them absent-mindedly as though expecting the older man to suddenly show up. Bobby had gone off to the nearest library in the hopes that some record of the Eric's could be found. It wasn't much of an effort but the more they knew about those two the better. Sam didn't like dealing with things he knew next to nothing about, and the library was their only option at this point. Lack of internet access was proving to be more and more of a problem than he'd originally anticipated.

"Oh so you two are alchemists, right I've heard of them," one spectator commented.

As the Winchesters got closer Sam could see Ed and Al more clearly, Al especially so given that he was so tall and stood out like a sore thumb. Edward had his arms crossed wearing a smug grin as he replied, "Then maybe you've heard of us, we're the Elric brothers."

"The Elric brothers you say?" the diner-man responded with a puzzled look.

"Oh wait I _do_ know that name!" Another spectator exclaimed.

"The Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric is that right?" yet another spectator replied.

Whispered murmuring turned into loud exclamations of recognition of the famous Fullmetal Alchemist…except the exclamations were being directed at the wrong Elric. Alphonse was surrounded by awed spectators who fired questions and comments left and right until the younger brother finally cut them off with, "No uh…it's not _me_."

"Huh?" the crowed responded in unison, then one lowly civilian replied bluntly so that everyone turned and stared skeptically at Ed, "What? You mean it's the little guy there?"

Immediately the crowd was awarded with one of the famous Edward Elric short rants, in which they quickly backed off from the hot-headed shrimp and his fullmetal-but-not-THE-Fullmetal younger brother.

"Let's go somewhere else before they see us," Sam urged Dean.

"I thought you said it was no big deal? Let's get some food already."

"Yeah but that was _before_ I found out those two were already eating here," Sam nodded at the food still sitting atop the wooden counter at the diner. "We won't be able to grab anything without being spotted."

"Find, fine" Dean sighed heavily, his hopes of eating sooner than later evaporated.

Sam was about to lead the way towards another location to eat when one spectator's comment about Father Cornello stopped him.

"He can even resurrect the dead. His miracles are proof that what he says is true."

Now that was something new.

"So this guy is claiming he can bring the dead back to life?" Ed replied in a skeptical tone. "Now that's something I gotta see."

Sam couldn't agree more. "Let's go," he muttered to Dean before making a move to follow the Eric's towards what he believed was Cornello's current location.

"Seriously?" Dean practically growled after his brother, swearing under his breath as he went to catch up with Sam.

Pink flower petals sailed across the massive group of people standing before a large temple building that Sam guessed was the official church of Lior. It was huge, with white pillars and narrow towers that reached for the sky, one in particular that stretched the furthest and housed the official church bell. The main doors to the church were large and wooden, with a carving of what Sam could only guess was the sun considering the Sun God was their deity. An enormous statue of a man in robs with a long beard and scepter stood in front of the church, the scepter also had the sun on it, and the man itself wore a crown that resembled the shape of the sun's rays.

And standing in front of the statue was none other than Father Cornello himself, flanked by two guards on either side of him, all wearing white while their holy leader sported the traditional black outfit with a white collar. He seemed older, in his early fifties at the very least, with a bald head and creases along his slightly rounded face. Cornello caught one of the pink flowers in his massive hands, closed his fingers around it, a burst of red light and suddenly a large jeweled flower appeared behind him, as well as one on a sash that suddenly materialized around Cornello's waist.

"That's a nice trick," Sam replied, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall of an alley facing the congregation.

"There they are," Dean pointed at a particular spot in the crowd where Al stood next to his brother who needed the boost of suitcase in order to see above the large throng of people. Sam leaned forward to get a better view of the Elric's but was jerked back by Dean's hand on his shoulder.

"Don't stick your neck out like a giraffe!" He scolded him, craning his neck to check and see if they'd been spotted. "Knowing our luck your ginormous frame is going to get us caught, I'm not up for another throw-down with those two just yet. I'm running low on fuel as it is."

Sam shifted his position so that he leaned away from the end of the alley. "So what do you think?" he nodded toward the priest.

"It's that Alchemy stuff isn't it?" Dean replied, frowning. "But how is he doing that? Turning a flower into a large jewel? That thing looks to have more karats than Bill Gates could afford."

"Yeah that's what doesn't make any sense," Sam commented, doing some frowning of his own. "By law of Equivalent Exchange he shouldn't be able to do what he's doing."

"Probably just some cheap magic trick," Dean pointed out, "but he's got to be having some kind of help right? To perform magic like that there's got to be some kind of talisman or spell book."

"Might be worth looking into," Sam replied.

"Yeah sure Sam," Dean retorted, "Just keep piling on more shit for us to deal with why don't you?"

"I'm just saying something's not right here and we should probably check it out," Sam reasoned.

"Why?" Dean's voice rose an octave, "why should we give a crap about some shady priest and his swindled followers?" He turned to look Sam in the eye, giving him that bewildered expression he sometimes got when Sam contradicted him on something, "We're not from here Sam, these people don't matter. What matters is getting back to _our_ dimension, or have you lost track of that?"

"I haven't lost track of anything Dean," Sam argued, "but if we're going to get back to our own world we need a way to get there."

"Oh right I forgot, you're Alchemy obsession," Dean waved his hands about in a mocking gesture, "tell me something how do you plan on getting those yahoos to teach us Alchemy if in actuality they want nothing more than to clobber us with their metal fists of fury?"

"Only Ed is against the idea of helping us, Al's not."

"And you're sure of that because?"

Sam just stared at him for a moment, thinking that Dean must've noticed the similarities by now, how their lives and the Elric's weren't that different, but apparently that bit of epiphany had bypassed him. "Because he's like me Dean…he's reasonable."

Dean looked at Sam cautiously for a moment, muttered "whatever", then turned back to facing the crowd as it ooh'd and ahh'd at the speech Cornello was now giving. Neither of the two said a word for quite some time, both lost in their own thoughts. Sam wondering if attempting to learn Alchemy, particularly from the Elric's, was as much of a bad idea as it seemed. Okay so it was an outright bad idea, but his gut was telling him to trust those boys, as much as he hated the idea of being affiliated with them anymore than they already were, but his gut was usually never wrong.

"You boys sulking again?"

The duo turned to face Bobby Singer approaching them from behind, that familiar paternal yet scolding look on his face when he realized the boys were being difficult once again, acting out like children with their heads up their asses. Sam never got tired of that expression, it was a subtle reminder that while they may not be what Hallmark would consider a perfect family, they were in fact still family. And they had Bobby to thank for that. For everything really.

"Sam's still of the idea that the Elric's will cave," Dean jerked his head in Sam's direction, "and I'm still calling bogus on it."

"Find anything on them?" Sam asked in an attempt to cut Dean short on his rant.

"Not much of a library here, and definitely no info on those boys. Had to rely on friendly gossip," Bobby moved to stand directly in front of them. "The only thing I could find out was that Edward is the youngest to ever take the State Alchemy exam, pass it, _and_ become a certified State Alchemist. But that's about the end of his fame, other than that he's just a regular ol' kid from some town nobody knows nothin' about."

"Which leads us to….absolutely nothing," Dean remarked irritably.

"Right," Bobby replied nonchalant, "Well if you're done having a bitch fit come with me. There's something the both of you need to look at."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"See for yourself," Bobby told him, doing a full one-eighty and heading back in the direction he'd come. The two boys followed him instantly, a thousand ideas running through their heads as they continued onward down the alley. Bobby lead them further in, stopping in front of an old dumpster.

"What'd you find?" Dean inquired, eyes scanning over the hunk of metal for a clue.

"This" Bobby motioned with his hand before reaching over to lift up the lid high enough so the boys could see in. A sudden rush of decay-laced odor filled their nostrils, Sam's eyes began to water a bit as he leaned over to peer inside…and he felt his insides churn.

The dumpster was completely empty, save for the bundle of bloodstained clothes lying at the bottom, accompanied by a couple of bones here and there. It was hard to tell the gender since the bones weren't specific in identifying the sex, but the clothing marked as this corpse definitely being that of a human's.

"What the hell happened to this poor bastard?" Dean attempted to wave the smell away from his face, but the stench was still strong regardless.

"Don't know," Bobby answered him. "I happened to notice the stench on my way to meet you, decided to take a back alley to avoid those Elric boys."

"Hence the reason why no one has noticed this yet," Sam took a step back to attempt some fresher air, "doesn't look like this dumpster gets used much so it's more than likely abandoned."

"And we're the only ones shady enough to frequent back alleys," Dean replied in his usual smartass manner.

"Not sure if it's entirely abandoned," Bobby pointed out, nodding towards the corpse. "This hunk of dead-guy looks pretty fresh so it must've just happened within the last couple of hours or so."

"So a hoodoo priest and a possible cannibal all in the same day," Dean shook his head. "Well this just keeps getting better and better huh?"

"Hoodoo priest eh?" Bobby replied.

"He pulled some witchy juju trick with turning a flower into a large jewel," Dean told him, "We think he might have some dealings on the side helping out with that."

"And as far as your 'cannibal' comment, I wouldn't rule this as a Jeepers Creepers incident so quickly…but," Bobby glanced at the corpse once again, eyeing it more carefully, "no monster I know picks the meat clean off the bone for any other reason than to eat it."

"Or use certain parts in doing spell work," Sam remarked, the wheels in his brain turning as he tried to connect the dots.

"So you think Cornello and Jeepers are connected?" Dean questioned, glancing from one hunter to the other.

"Could be," Bobby confirmed, "but we wont know unless we look into it more efficiently. You know how it is, two different supernatural occurrences in the same location ain't a coincidence, ever….And with no computer or internet service I suggest you boys need to hit the books."

Dean glanced back at his brother, "Congratulations Sammy…..we now have a case to work."

"This way please," one of Cornello's guards motioned for Ed and Al to follow, with Rose, having recently joined their group, tagging along right behind them. She had pale skin, with dark hair and reddish bangs, sporting a light colored dress that was borderline white, two blue bracelets on her left wrist, and a pair of black sandals. After an exchange of a few coarse words with an attempt at spiritual conversion for the Elric's on Rose's part, she instantly became part of the tour de Church of Leto. "Father Cornello is a busy man as you can imagine. But you're in luck, he's decided to spare a moment for you."

They had arrived to a room that was roughly the same size as the sanctuary Ed and Al had visited earlier, only except for large quantities of pews this room was more or less empty. In the very front was a stairway split into two, each side leading to a separate door on the left and right side of the room. Large red banners dangled vertically on the walls, flagged by torches that gave the room the slightly orange glow to which they could see by. On either side of them were large stone columns that held up the vast ceiling that curved to a point high above their heads, the room was so enormous it was almost scary.

"Yeah thanks we understand!" Edward responded enthusiastically, his chipper mood covering the fact that this was more or less an attempt to dig deeper into finding the Philosopher's Stone rather than an actual need to convert to Letoism. "We wont take too much of his time."

"Good than it's agreed….We'll make this quick," just as they were entering the aforementioned room where Cornello was supposedly waiting for them, their darkly-clothed leader spun around bearing a gun pointed at Ed right when the two guards who had been tailing them the whole time brought down their spears to prevent Ed from moving forward. Al and Rose were caught in between, Rose uncertain of what to make of the sudden turn of events.

"Brother Craig what is this? What do you think you are doing?" Rose demanded of the gun holder, Brother Craig, whose eyes were focused on Edward just as the gun was focused on him.

"Rose these heathens have come to ensnare and discredit the Father," Brother Craig replied with dertimination, "They're evil. This is God's will!"

"Brother Craig…." Rose began.

"Well like you said…let's make this quick."

Craig turned around at the sound of this new voice just in time for Sam's fist to slam into his face, followed by his knee in the minion's solar plexus and another fist into the other side of his face, forcing him to double over with a grunt and fall to the floor. Just as he was falling, the gun slipped from his hand and slid across to Sam who immediately picked it up an aimed it at the other two guardsmen.

Instantly realizing what was happening, Ed quickly elbowed one guard to the ground before grabbing the other and forcing him to the floor as well with his arm. When the other guardsman began to rise from where Ed had knocked him down he was met with the sudden appearance of Al's fist into his face, knocking him out.

Sam, Dean and Bobby had taken to scoping out the church for clues, but only Sam had actually gone inside. He'd managed to sneak past a few guards, infiltrating the building to begin the traditional hunter way of snooping, before he heard the sound of Ed's voice as he spoke with one of Cornello's minions. Curious to see what the Elric's were up to in a place like this, Sam had followed them for a bit before heading off in another direction once he realized where they were headed. Knowing the building would've made it easier for him to find the right room, but when he noticed the various guards posted around one particular room, he guessed he'd found the right spot after all. It had only been a matter of knocking out a few to get inside without alerting the other guards.

And he'd arrived in time to see the Elrics, and this new girl he'd never met but was apparently called Rose, held at gunpoint by one of Cornello's more loyal servants. Sam was beginning to wonder if his timing was somehow predestined so that he automatically showed up wherever the Elric's were. They seemed to be trouble-magnets that was for sure.

Rose, frightened by the sudden violence, trembled slightly as she stared at Sam, "Who….who are you?"

"You again!" Ed pointed at Sam with an accusing finger, "Don't you dumbasses know when someone says to leave them alone they literally mean LEAVE THEM ALONE!"

"Not now brother!" Al reminded him, but Ed wasn't listening.

"I ought to pulverize you AND your brother, who I'm guessing isn't far behind!"

"What's this commotion?"

The group turned to face Father Cornello, who had emerged from the shadows, with a cane in hand and a sly grin on his face. Sam was intriguingly reminded of a snake coiled and ready to strike, tongue flicking in anticipation of a kill. "Ah the Fullmetal Alchemist…..and some of his friends I presume…..welcome to the home of our sacred order."

Rose gasped in relief, "Father Cornello!"

"I must apologize for my disciple's behavior," Cornello continued as though Rose hadn't said a word. "It would seem they've been misguided."

"Okay let's say I believe you weren't the one guiding them," Ed ignored the "friends" comment and got straight to the point of their presence there. "What next?"

"Have you come to learn the ways of Leto?" Cornello asked.

"Well there are a few things I'm curious about," Ed replied in an openly suspicious tone, "Like how you've been using second-rate alchemy to deceive your followers."

Rose gasped upon hearing this bit of declaration but said nothing in response.

"My dear boy I don't know what you mean," Cornello answered him calmly, "What you're doubting, I see is Alchemy, are the miracles of the Sun god Leto." He clasped his hands together in a similar manner that Ed did when performing alchemy, a burst of red light, and upon separating his hands revealed a small statue similar to the one standing just outside the church. It was the Sun God Leto, only in miniature form, "Look again, could mere alchemy create something from nothing in this way?"

"Yeah that's what I didn't get at first," Ed retorted, nonchalantly scratching his head, "How can you perform transmutations that ignore the law of Equivalent Exchange?"

"As I said!" Cornello countered in an agitated voice, "Because it isn't Alchemy!"

"But then I started thinking about it," Ed went on, ignoring the priest. "If you'd somehow managed to acquire a certain object to amplify your Alchemy…..one that's said to make the impossible possible…..that would explain _everything_."

Cornello glared at him, "_What?_"

Ed looked up at him, his eyes ablaze with a fire that burned an angry gold. "I'm talking about the Philosopher's Stone…Your ring…..That's it isn't it?"

Father Cornello didn't even glance at the jewel in question, a small ring on his left middle finger, made of gold with a small red stone adorning it. The Philosopher's Stone? Could it be?

"I've been looking for that," Ed replied with vehement determination.

"The ring is just a ring," the calm yet sly grin had crept back onto Cornello's old and worn face. "I am God's humble servant, it is from He alone that I derive my power!"

"Still trying to sell that line huh?" Ed replied cynically, walking towards the Father with his gloved hands curled into fists. "If that's the way you want to play it I guess I'll have to come up there and beat some truth out of you!"

Even to Sam that sounded cocky beyond belief…..this kid really was like Dean.

The grin faded from Cornello's face, replaced with a look of indifference, "My you really are quite the incorrigible heathen aren't you?" In the next second Cornello placed a hand to the stone railing, red light shot through his fingertips and surged through the stairs and straight to the floor, where it shot right for Sam, the stone beneath his feet uprooting and knocking him down, the gun flying out of his hand as he fell. Ed, Al and Rose could only stand and watch as Sam landed hard on the stone floor and the gun skidded to a stop at Rose's feet.

"Rose dear," Father Cornello finally acknowledged her presence.

"Yes Father?" she responded in a weak voice, her purple eyes wide with fear.

"That gun there beside you," the sly grin returned, "pick it up."

"Uh…..okay," she reached down for what Sam knew to be an early 1900's edition of a .38 revolver, a small handgun but still deadly when used correctly.

"Now child," Cornello continued to guide her in her actions, "I want you to shoot the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Ed and Al gasped in unison, Sam shot immediately to his feet.

"No…I..," Rose stammered, "Father I can't do that!"

"I am the Sun God's chosen emissary," Cornello reminded her, "My word is the word of Leto himself…Shoot him Rose, it's God's will."

"I think you're idea of 'God's will' may be a tad bit misguided Cornello," Sam pointed out, but Cornello was too focused on Rose to pay him any attention.

She lifted the gun at chest level, cradling it in her hands, tears spilling out down her cheeks as she trembled under the weight of what Cornello was asking her to do.

"Why hesitate?" Cornello taunted her, "When you lost your fiancé to that tragic accident last year, who was it that saved you from the very depths of despair? Have you forgotten?"

"I-it…was you…Father," Rose replied shakily.

"That's right! It was _I_ that took your hand and lead you into God's light!" he boomed triumphantly. "And do you recall what it was I promised you then?"

"You said if I had faith you'd bring him back to life!" she raised the gun and pointed it directly at Alphonse.

"No wait!" Al threw up his hands in defense, "It's not me, honest!"

Rose hesitated, lowering the gun slightly as her mind processed his words, then she turned to face Edward.

"Dammit _I'm_ the Fullmetal Alchemist! It's not him, it's _me_!" Ed shouted at her, his arms flailing in petulant anger.

"Are you _trying_ to get yourself shot?" Sam bellowed at him.

"This isn't your concern so BUT OUT!" Ed countered in equal volume.

"It's the short one!" Cornello shouted, appearing taken aback at that bit of news. "You're kidding!"

Rose refocused her aim, only this time the gun was pointed at Edward, "I'm sorry but I….I have to do this! I don't have any choice."

Edward, fists still clenched, stared at her in disgruntlement. "He's been _lying_ to you Rose!"

"You're wrong! I've seen his miracles! Father Cornello will bring him back to life, I have faith!"

"Fine then shoot," Ed challenged her with a growl, his impatience with Rose's naivety overpowering his sensitivity for her plight as a swindled follower.

Rose's eyes, already wide from the ordeal with which she'd been dealt, grew impossibly wider at his words. Her aim faltered and she appeared on the verge of giving up on Cornello's order, but a suddenly rumbling sound frightened her and she pulled the trigger in reflex. The bullet hit Alphonse directly in the head, knocking his helmet off. He yelled in response, more out of surprise than fear, before falling backward to land flat on the floor.

"Al!" Ed shouted, just as Al's helmet landed on the floor next to his metal body, rolling over a couple of times before coming to a stop.

Rose, her shock and fear getting the best of her, dropped the .38 and covered in face as she cried out at the site of Al's limp form.

"Good, God Leto is pleased, you have done well my child," Cornello reassured her. "Now pick up the gun and shoot the _others_ as well."

"Haven't you made her do enough already?" The headless-Alphonse sat up to ask that question.

Cornello's eyes widened at the sight of Al rising from the floor without so much as a sign that he'd been hurt. Sam was becoming used to seeing Al without his head, but it was such a unique experience watching someone else see it for the first time, kind of like an inside joke without the humor.

"But….your head," Rose gasped, "I thought you were…"

"Don't worry about it, he's pretty solid," Ed assured her, tapping his fist against Al's midsection in emphasis to his words, Al's helmet in his other hand having just picked it up off the floor.

"Yeah see?" Al leaned forward and pointed to the hollow space inside his armor, "No harm done."

Rose hands shot to cover her mouth in shock, Sam wouldn't be surprised if the girl fainted at some point, this was just too much for her.

"Nice going," Sam retorted, "keep this up and we'll have to carry her out of her once she loses consciousness from all the shock." Ed glared at him for his comment but was cut off from replying when Cornello cut in to make a comment of his own.

"An empty suit of armor that walks and speaks?" He'd regained some of his composure after the initial shock of seeing Al headless. "Do you still doubt it Rose? This unholy thing is an abomination! Evil of this kind must be purged!" He reached towards the wall behind him and pulled down on a lever that Sam only just noticed was there.

Al replaced the helmet on his head just as Cornello was gearing up for some attack, and the moment he pulled the lever down the expected "attack" came in the form of a red-eyed monster emerging from some secret room, the door having been hidden in shadow the whole time.

When the creature came into the light Sam could see that something about it wasn't right. For starters, its front end was that of a large male lion, with a full mane and large claws, a hideous snarl revealing a set of large and pointy teeth. However its back end was composed of what appeared to be that of a large bird, with reddish feet and talons about as long as the blade of a pocket knife. The tail was harder to place, but to Sam it appeared to be the kind of reptilian tail you'd find in sketches of a dinosaur, it swept across the space behind it in a threatening manner, seemingly strong enough to knock them all around like rag dolls.

"And I believe my chimera should be up to the task," Cornello replied viciously, a smug smile on his face as he watched his precious chimera advance upon the four of them.

Chimera huh? Sam had heard of them before in passing, but had never actually _seen_ one, not even during a hunt. From what he remembered they were monsters created by man that were a composition of multiple organisms, but supposedly they were creations of the mind only hence the reason one had never been spotted in their own world. But here stood one, alive and breathing, nostrils flaring and eyes glowing in anticipation of the hunt.

Dean was going to enjoy hearing about this one.

"So this is the sort of thing you do with the Philosophers Stone, that's just twisted," Ed replied casually, his voice calm as though he saw chimera's like this every day. "Anyway," he clapped his hands together in preparation for a transmutation, "looks like I'll need a weapon."

He slapped his hands to the floor, igniting a burst of blue light and transmuting a machete from the stone, which he then tossed over to Sam who caught it in mid-air.

"You'll need it," Ed answered Sam's silent question of "what the hell?" before clapping his hands together again and transmuting a second weapon, a spear, from the floor as well.

Father Cornello had watched this whole process in disbelief, "No Transmutation Circle! So the State Alchemist title isn't just for show, you truly _are_ gifted…However…."

The chimera became instantly riled, roaring at Ed who backed away, swiping the spear in its direction as he went. But the blade was no match for the monster's claws which tore through it easily, cutting the weapon into pieces, shredding left pant leg in the process.

"Your little spear is no match for chimera claws that tear through iron!" Cornello roared in triumph.

Ed laughed, his expression smug as he focused on the monster, "You shredded my pants."

In that same moment the claws the chimera had torn the spear with crumbled and broke off its paw, just before Ed used his left leg to send the monster flying across the room. "I guess those claws don't do so good against steel," the young Alchemist replied victoriously.

"Bite him you stupid beast!" Cornello shouted at the chimera, the monster having gotten back on its feet and making a beeline straight for Ed. It leapt through the air, jaws gaping wide and landed on Ed's right arm, chomping down on it but doing nothing more than tearing the sleeve.

"You like that kitty?" Ed asked it in a mocking tone, "go ahead get a good taste!" He slammed his right foot directly into the creature's lower jaw, sending it reeling backward to land on the stone floor, where it remained unconsciously useless.

Father Cornello gasped at the sudden loss of his monster weapon, remarking on Ed's limbs in bewilderment, "Your arm…..a brother trapped in armor…I see…..it's all becoming clear now."

Ed reached his left hand up to his right shoulder in order to fling his overcoat off in one fluid movement. It was the first time Sam could see Ed's arm in all its metallic glory, all metal just as his name metaphorically implied, even parts of his shoulder was metal so that the arm itself could have an anchor on his body. To Sam the arm looked to be painful, there were even a couple of old scars that showed signs of just how painful the automail must've been at some point. But Ed carried on as though it didn't bother him, as though he'd been dealing with metal limbs for years and he was used to how they affected him and managed to pull through just fine. But that's exactly what Ed had been doing since their mom passed away; managing his life as best he could while trying to take care of his younger brother.

Sam's respect for the kid grew a little in that moment.

Cornello continued to bluntly reference Ed and Al's situation, a huge grin spread across his face, like a cat that swallowed a canary. "You did it didn't you? The _one_ thing even the most novice Alchemist knows is strictly forbidden!"

Edward held out his metal hand towards the Father, almost reminiscent of Neo in The Matrix with the way his composure challenged the Father, "Why don't you come down here and try me? I'll show you real quick who the novice is!"

"Rose this is the price of their sin," Cornello switched back to his former tactic of swaying her to side with him. "These fools attempted Human Transmutation, the greatest taboo for _any_ Alchemist. In their arrogance they tried to bring someone dead back to life."

Rose took in a shaky breath, staring incredulously at Father, "Oh no…."

"This is what happens when you try to play God or whatever you want to call it," Ed explained to her, his eyes glazed over with some painful memory as he surveyed his metallic arm. "Take a good look Rose…is this what you want?"

Cornello laughed sinisterly, "So this is the great Fullmetal Alchemist Edward Elric? Not even half a man, hell not even half a boy!"

"And what are you?" Ed demanded of the older man, "You're just a phony that can't do anything without a Philosopher's Stone!"

"Father," Alphonse tried to reason with Cornello, holding out one massive hand, "we just want you to hand over the Stone before you get hurt."

"I'd listen to them if I were you," Sam pointed out in warning.

"Don't be absurd," Cornello replied, "Why? So you can use it for yourself? Please! If you fools are really so eager to play God, then perhaps I should send you to meet him instead!" He raised the cane he held with his right hand, touched his left to the wooden stem of it, and transmuted it into a rotating machine gun that rested on his right shoulder. It was similar in shape to a 1907 Kynoch Machine Gun, only it was more of a "hand held" edition, without the "station" for it to sit on and the barrel wasn't as smoothly shaped.

One pull of the trigger and Cornello was raining bullets on them in a nanosecond, each whizzing at them at hyper speed. Sam shot over to Rose, placing himself between the bullets and her in an attempt to prevent her getting shot. In that same moment Ed transmuted a large stone wall between themselves and Cornello's aim, some of the bullets hitting the stone and leaving huge craters.

"Nah, me and God we don't along too well," Ed replied cynically. "Even if I went, he'd probably just send me right back _here_."

"Get her out of here!" Sam pushed Rose in Al's direction, who immediately gathered the girl in his arms and ran with her towards the nearest exit. Cornello spotted their attempted retreat and opened fire instantly, not caring that one of his followers could get killed in the process. Al wasn't affected by the bullets, they simply ricocheted off his back with little *ping* sounds.

"This way!" Ed yelled after them, clapping his hands together and running towards the closest wall, nodding at Sam to follow him. The four of them reached the wall together and Ed transmuted large double-doors that opened instantly, allowing them passage into a hallway….and the line of sight of a group of Cornello's "disciples". Cornello was right on their tails, Sam heard him shouting at his men to go after them, to which they immediately got moving.

Breathless and panting the four of them came closer to the end of the hallway that branched off at a T-section, where a line of guards stood waiting for them, weapons at the ready.

"That's far enough!" one guard pointed out to them.

"What are you going to do boy?" another guard also inquired of Ed, "You're unarmed and outnumbered."

"Look just come quietly," yet another guard replied calmly, "we don't want to have to rough you up."

Sam glanced at Ed, who simply grinned at him before transmuting a large blade out of his right arm and brandishing it in the direction of the guards. Sam imitated his attempt to scare them and held out the machete to show they were ready to fight if necessary. The guards, noticing the two of them weren't playing around, began screaming at the sight of the weapons just as Ed and Sam pummeled their way through, making sure not to cut any of them. Ed laughed as the four of them made their way out of reach and were gone.

They waited. It was the most unnerving kind of waiting, right after a large rush of adrenaline during a fight, and then you had to instantly become calm and remain stationary.

Sam felt like moving, felt like fighting, hell he wanted to sink his fist into someone's face, anything but standing there in Cornello's office waiting for the old geezer to show. Sam stood just out of eyesight of the doorframe and Ed sat casually on Cornello's desk.

"Calm down or he'll catch you," Ed reminded him, his even tone had Sam wondering if he still regretted his decision to let the younger Winchester assist him.

"You still haven't told me why you agreed to let me do this," Sam pointed out in a whisper.

"You still haven't told me the truth about how someone who's dead can come back to life," Ed whispered back skeptically.

Sam scoffed, "Trust me you don't want to know the cost for something like that. After everything you've already lost you want to risk more?"

"So why'd you bring it up in the first place if you don't want me knowing about it?"

Sam sighed heavily, "I needed to get your attention. You were being stubborn and refused to listen to me."

"Right, because you had _so_ much to offer," Ed replied sarcastically. "Do we need to have that conversation yet _again_ about how useless your information is to me?"

Sam was silent for a moment, listening intently for the sound of approaching footsteps, but it was still quiet outside in the hallway. "Look Ed….there are things about us that _could have_ been useful to you…if we still had access to them here."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"People…..can come back to life…..but only if they're chosen…or have the right stuff."

Ed nodded as though he understood, but Sam was sure he was doing it to mock him. "So basically you're saying only special people get a free ticket out of the afterlife?"

"Basically."

"Which translates to 'this is the only convincing argument I can come up with' right?" Ed retorted. "You're going to have to work harder, or just give it up already because I'm not buying it."

"If you really don't buy it…." Sam pointed out, "then you wouldn't have brought it up….which means that you're holding onto some hope that I'm telling the truth."

Ed shook his head, "That's not it. I'm just curious about what other crap you can come up with in an attempt to persuade me you're telling me anything of value."

"Is that the same attitude you had when you attempted to bring your mom back?" Sam risked commenting, "that it's all bullshit but you're still curious enough to stick your nose in?"

Ed made a snarling sound and clenched his fist, "Don't act like you know what it was like…what we went through…..you weren't _there_."

"But you did didn't you? You doubted it was going to work even before you tried it, maybe not enough to make you second-guess your plans but it was definitely there."

Ed was silent in response to Sam's words, his only visible reaction was the glare he was giving him.

"That's the funny thing about people," Sam went on, "they wont believe in anything that's out of the ordinary until it's staring them right in the face…..or they lose someone….At that point they'd do anything to get their loved one back….even if it means performing a certain task that can backfire and take more than they were expecting to give."

Ed arched an eyebrow, "You're referring to Human Transmutation?"

Sam shook his head, "No….other things…..stuff you don't know about."

Ed continued to stare at him for a moment before replying with, "You can't help me….no one can…no one but us…so just let it go okay?"

Sam watched him cautiously, "Ed…if I make you a promise…will you make me one in return?...Equivalent Exchange and all that?"

Ed frowned at him, "I've already told you, you don't have anything I want."

"Maybe not _here_," Sam replied, "but where we're from we have ways of getting things done…ways that aren't available in your world….at least as far as we can tell."

"I told you already…I don't believe your little tales about being from some alternate dimension."

"You saw my phone didn't you?" Sam reminded him.

"You mean that piece of plastic mixed with metal that any Alchemist could've thrown together on a whim?" Ed replied in a snarky tone, "Is _that_ what you're referring to?"

"What's it going to take for you to believe in someone outside of your little co-dependent relationship with your brother?"

"What do you know about being co-dependent?" Edward asked in an accusing tone.

"I have a brother," Sam replied in a firm voice.

Ed fell silent again, only remaining so when the two of them heard footsteps down the hall.

Sam turned to Ed in order to mouth, "Is Al ready by now?"

Ed merely nodded, saying nothing as the footsteps came closer, and from the rapid beat of them Sam could tell the person was running. He couldn't risk leaning forward to catch a glimpse of whoever it was, but he needn't wait too long for Father Cornello himself popped into the doorway, walking cane restored to normal and clutched once again in his right hand. He was out of breath and his age seemed to have finally preyed on his physical exertion after the adrenaline wore off, but he still managed to attempt an intimidating demeanor as he looked accusingly at Ed.

"There you are you infernal brat!"


	10. Dance With The Devil

"Look, can we just cut the crap and talk here?" Ed addressed Cornello in a casually cynical tone. "All I want are some straight answers about the stone," he continued, his sly grin morphing into one of a pleasant young fellow willing to be cooperative. "Tell me what I need to know and I'll be on my way…or we could get the military involved."

Cornello snarled at Edward's subtle threat, blatantly furious that a kid had him by the short and curlies so easily, he appeared to be a few well-chosen words away from beating Ed senseless. But realizing that would only attract the kind of attention he didn't need, the kind Sam guessed could only happen when a military official suddenly went missing, Cornello sighed heavily, frowning as he glanced up and down the hallway to be sure they weren't within earshot of any unsuspecting churchgoers.

He shut the door behind him, his livid constitution influencing his lack of conscious knowledge that Sam was standing just to his right. Now having fully emerged into the room Cornello spared a death glare at the younger Winchester, masking his surprise at the sight of him with a hateful look. Sam wasn't affected by such trivial behavior, Cornello reminding him strongly of a spiteful child on the verge of throwing a tantrum. Cornello turned to focus his sight on Ed, but the slight turn of his head showed that he was keeping Sam within his peripheral as much as possible.

Masking his rage as best he could, he schooled his features in order to appear calm and resilient, "Ask your questions."

He barked out the statement in such a snappy tone that it came off as more of an order rather than a passage of temporary leniency on his part, but Edward seemingly chose to ignore it.

"You can do anything with the Philosopher's Stone right?" Edward queried, his tone just short of mocking. "So why waste all that power performing phony miracles?"

Cornello's expression smoothed over into a more low-key version of the grin he sported earlier. He currently held important information that Edward needed, regardless that the young alchemist was attempting to feign indifference, the priest could tell that the information was essential to Ed's overall plan. That small moment of gaining the upper hand being the influence behind his subtle look of victory, he addressed Edward as he had before in the bannered room. There was a mischievous and outright maniacal gleam to his eyes as he spoke, his tone exhilarant and passionate.

"Because with each miracle I can attract new believers to the order who would lay down their lives for my sake," he was obviously proud of his accomplishments in the way he spoke about the cause, it was that breathless kind of excitement you sometimes heard in someone's voice when something big was happening in their life. Something huge.

"I'm slowly building an army, a legion of holy warriors unafraid to die. In a few more years I'll be ready to unleash this mindless horde upon the world! And I'll use the Philosopher's Stone to tear this country apart. Who knows? I might even carve out a slice for _you_." He laughed at his own works as though they were some private joke only he could understand.

Edward, having appeared bored to tears during the whole explanation, suddenly erupted in a burst of laughter of his own. Though it wasn't for Cornello's benefit, but rather for his own, and considering the ridiculousness of the priest's master plan it was certainly justifiable. Sam wasn't normally the type to find dangerous situations humorous, but Edward's response reminded him so much of Dean it was almost worth a laugh or two.

"Hey what are _you_ laughing about?" Cornello was obviously displeased with Ed's mirth.

"I knew it! You really _are _a novice aren't you?" Edward replied, his laughing dying down as he spoke.

Edward wasn't the only one that was skilled, Sam had a few tricks of his own, his time at Stanford wasn't the main reason behind his intelligence, a majority of it was simply good old-fashioned Winchester instinct mixed with a healthy dose of worldly logic. It had only taken a matter of seconds to formulate a plan during their escape from Cornello's gun, Alphonse having split from them (still carrying Rose) to do his part. Sam and Ed had tracked down Cornello's office, where Ed used his alchemical skills to transmute a microphone using what little materials they had.

Sam couldn't help but grin at the situation, especially when at that precise moment Edward lifted something off the desk. Something small and made of metal in a box-like fashion, with two wires running from the bottom. It was an On/Off switch, the switch itself turned to the "On" end, and one of the two wires lead to said microphone lying casually on the carpeted floor at Cornello's feet.

Having noticed this finally, Cornello's expression went from a blank look of confusion, to a jaw-dropping moment of disbelief, to a twitching state of fury before he finally exploded with rage. "YOU DON'T MEAN THAT..!…WHY YOU..!…..HOW LONG? HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN ON?"

From somewhere outside Sam heard the faint whirring sound of what he assumed was Al's part of the plan, which consisted of making it so that Cornello's beloved confession could be heard on every station across Lior and then some. Sam guessed the "and then some" part included blaring the message as well, he could hear the booming echo of the priest's angry words from somewhere outside, startling a flock of birds to immediately take flight.

"From the start," Ed replied nonchalant in response to Cornello's bewildered question. "Your believers heard _every word_."

"_How could you?_" Cornello all but snarled at the young alchemist, his patience, having worn dangerously thin up until now, was finally broken following another cheap shot on their part. "YOU'LL PAY DEARLY FOR THIS!" He made a move to transmute his cane into a gun once again, but Edward had already anticipated this move.

"Sorry _not_ today!" striking forward with his sword-arm, he sliced the gun completely in half, the blade cutting through the metal like butter. The front half broke free and clattered to the floor. "Just face it," Edward replied in a tone reflecting his lack of patience in dealing with anymore bullshit now, "you're outclassed here."

Cornello didn't seem to fully understand just how screwed he was now, his actions mimicking that of an animal backed into a corner that eventually came out acting hysterical and manically violent in an attempt to gain freedom from its pursuers. "I AM WITHOUT RIVAL!" he bellowed, reaching up to his half-gun to transmute it once again, the red light the transmutation was emitting seemed to last longer than before.

Edward twisted and flipped over backwards to move away from the priest, landing in a crouch with cat-like grace, his right arm still in sword form. Sam semi-circled the priest in order to put some distance between himself and whatever it was he was attempting to create. The man was losing it, slowly but surely he was going to snap in a manner that would put them all in the kind of danger that was beyond chaotic. The kind that was better to run from than to face.

Something was wrong, the transmutation was taking longer than usual, the red glow growing brighter and brighter until Sam had to cover his eyes because the brightness of it was blinding him. Suddenly the light flared and went out, giving off a tiny booming sound like a miniature explosion. Black dots swam in Sam's vision in the aftermath of the light, when his vision finally cleared he was presented with Cornello standing as he was, but with a pained expression on his face. One look at his arm clearly showing why.

Cornello no longer held his cane-gun, instead it appeared as though the gun had become a part of his arm. Bits of metal twisted and framed his forearm, pieces here and there actually sticking into the flesh, some of them going straight through like oversized piercings. His own shirt sleeve was fused into his arm along with the gun itself, the fabric twisted into and around his skin, bits of his shirt was also floating around like debris. Strings of red light still flickered here and there, twisting and spiraling around the creation, as though the transmutation was attempting to either finish itself or make things right.

Edward stared in disbelief, still in his crouched position. "It's a rebound," was all he said.

"No!" Cornello raged determinedly, "I won't be disgraced like this!" He was clutching his disaster of an arm, the red light becoming stronger once again, Cornello's voice growing deeper as the atmosphere shifted in the room. "Now….." he stared at the two of them with such hatred Sam felt a chill creep up his spine, "….behold…..the chosen emissary of the Sun God Leto!"

For the first time that day, Sam witnessed the first true expression of fear on Edward's face. Up until now, his moments of vulnerability had been short-lived, immediately snuffed out by a snarky comment or an act of violence. Now with Cornello standing before them, red light all around, transmuting himself into a larger and deadlier version of his formerly formidable self, the young alchemist appeared momentarily disarmed and….strangely enough…almost helpless.

Cornello was massive, abusing the Stone's power to make himself as large as possible, his body straining against the rapid and unnatural change. His skin made stretch marks as it adjusted to his new size, his muscles were larger but unevenly so, giving the impression of his being lopsided and misshapen. The changes in his physical appearance caused his shirt to tear and eventually fall to pieces, and the arm he'd disfigured in an attempt to transmute a gun was larger as well. In fact it reminded Sam of a more grotesque and sickening version of Edward's own metallic arm, but where Ed's was symbolic of a painful past with a promise of a more victorious future, Cornello's gave the impression of a main goal of search and destroy.

He swung an enormous fist in Edward's direction, and for the second time that week Sam reached out and grabbed him by the collar to drag him out of harm's way. He pulled himself and Edward around Cornello's hulking form, grabbing the broken piece of gun barrel as he went. When Cornello swung around to strike out at them again, Sam used the jagged end of the metal to slice at the man's left hand which was roughly the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. Cornello roared, in anger rather than actual pain, and made to chase them. His immense size making it difficult for him to get through the door without a bit of forceful effort, giving Sam and Edward a moment's head start.

This was the kind of danger Sam had been worried about, the kind that could lead to some serious trouble. What if Cornello got loose into the city? If they couldn't stop him there was no telling what kind of damage he could do, not to mention the kind of danger he would be to his former followers. The duo ran and ran (Sam was getting tired of this), bypassing room after room until they ended up at the door to the sanctuary. However instead of simply breaking through the double doors, the three of them ended up exploding through the wall as Cornello, having finally caught up as he bounded along, launched at them so hard he broke through the stone. He came barreling through with such force it shook the very foundation of the church, large crumbled portions of the wall came raining down as they scampered away from the crazed priest who was still chasing them with vehemence.

Sam backed away, Edward regained a fighting stance in anticipation of Cornello's next move, but he needn't wait long. The priest reared back his disfigured arm and made to smash Ed into the stone floor, but Edward being as light-footed and quick as he was, leapt out of the way just as Cornello's fist cratered the spot where Ed had stood only seconds before. The priest used this opportunity of their focus on his right arm to swing around with his left in an attempt to knock the young alchemist off his feet, but the victory was cut short when Cornello realized that the young Elric was fending off the blow as much as possible. He was pushing against Cornello's fist, putting all his weight into the effort, but his strength was proving frail against the priest's inhuman strength.

"MY WORD IS THE DIVINE WORD OF GOD HIMSELF," Cornello's voice boomed across the room as though it were amplified on a loudspeaker. "MY FIST IS THE ALMIGHTY FIST OF JUDGEMENT!"

"Oh yeah?" Despite his diminishing efforts against Cornello, Edward still feigned bravado. It didn't matter that Cornello could simply knock him down into the floor at this point, Edward wasn't going down without getting the last word in. "Fist of God huh?" he leapt backward, stumbling as he semi-circled Cornello and made straight for the giant statue of Leto behind the altar.

"If that's what you want you can HAVE IT!" Edward clapped his hands together and placed them urgently at the base of the statue, engulfing it in a large current of blue light. The transmutation morphed the Sun God's right hand to move and curl into a hefty stone fist, which it then used to slam into Cornello, he cried out in response to this sudden turn of events as the fist surged forward, slamming him into the floor. A large dust cloud erupted from the collision, powdering the room with flecks of stone and grime. The moment the dust began to settle, Edward and Sam made straight for Cornello, who lay whimpering beside Leto's "fist", clutching desperately at his disfigured arm. Ribbons of red light still circulated around both him and the stone fist, but they were starting to fade away as the alchemical reaction wore off.

"Shut up!" Edward grabbed Cornello's face, and roughly so, making Sam wince inwardly. The priest had returned to his normal size, still minus the shirt and what looked to be the bottom half of his pants, a side-effect of his Hulk-worthy moment. Now that he was back to his normal size, he almost looked pathetically pitiful lying there, defeated and utterly cowed by no more than a child and his estranged other-worldly sidekick.

"Just give me the Philosopher's Stone!" Edward wasn't sparing any pity or remorse for Cornello's plight, instead choosing to cut to the chase in demanding the ring.

It was in that moment, when Cornello's normal hand with the ring partially covering his horrified expression, that the red Stone in question slipped away from its hold and fell to the stone floor, where it shattered into tiny pieces. They watched breathlessly as the pieces turned to a fine red dust, blowing away as though someone had left a window open somewhere, and the bits of the Stone dissolved into nothing with a phantom jangling sound of finality.

Edward stared in horrified disbelief, his eyes wide with upset and confusion. "What the hell?" was all he managed in a small whisper.

Sam wasn't sure what any of it meant, but he had a feeling that it wasn't good. "What does that mean? Was it even the real Stone?"

"The Stone…." Edward began, regaining some of his composure as his mind worked to make sense of the situation, "….it's supposed to be perfect material…..how did it just break like that?"

Cornello seemed as perplexed as Edward, immediately he held up his hands in his defense, whining feebly. "Uh…I don't know! I don't know anything about it! Spare me! Please!" he switched from whining to bargaining, "I was wrong! Please I beg you!"

"Does this mean what I think it does?" Sam dared to ask, knowing the answer was going to upset the young Alchemist.

"It does." Edward rose from the floor, the first pangs of defeat finally settling in on him, "It's a damn fake."

"Please don't!" Cornello continued to bray, his actions only fueling Edward's upset. "I'm helpless without the Stone! Spare me please!" Sam's brief moment of pity for this man had dissolved instantly the moment he plead for his life, now he was simply pathetic.

"You mean we went through all this…..risked our lives for this _one_ possible chance…..and it's a _fake_?" Edward swayed for a moment, his shoulders sagging under the weight of realization. Sam wanted to say something comforting, or at least something to get him motivated again, but he didn't know what would get him going at the moment.

But apparently Cornello had the right stuff for just that.

"So…haha…." he began, grinning sheepishly. "What about me?"

"What _about _you?" Sam demanded, growing tired of the priest's bullshit, but Edward had a different kind of approach to the question.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO JUST GET OUT OF HERE!" he all but roared at Cornello, shaking a metal fist at the priest's face in silent emphasis as to what would happen if he disobeyed.

"B-but…but…..what do I do?" his excessive whining had plucked the wrong nerve with the two of them, and it gave Sam the excuse he needed to rear back his fist and slam it into the priest's chubby face. Normally Dean was the one to let fists fly on a whim if someone was deliberately pissing him off, but Sam had been having an off-week, hell an off-_life_, so he was entitled to throwing a punch here and there when it was deserved.

The blow knocked Cornello flat on his back, he immediately scrambled up and onto his feet, clutching his cheek as he raced from the room. It was amazing how easily one could cow a person of power once that power was gone, especially if that someone relied solely on that power to control others. All it took was the right kind of training and even the most cowed person could bounce back swinging, ready to beat the next person that dared challenge them. Cornello obviously had never been trained as anything other than an idiot, a whimsical and foolish person that when stripped of his powers was nothing more than a shriveled little man with nothing to offer but broken promises.

He made Sam sick.

"Thanks for that," Edward's voice broke through Sam's thoughts, "I would've done it myself but I thought I'd better not."

"Don't mention it" Sam replied, flexing his right hand. Even though the priest's cheeks were chubby, it hadn't cushioned the blow as one would expect. "I just wanted him to shut up with all the whining."

"Well either way…I don't think he'll be accepted with open arms from this point forward." Edward placed his hands on his hips, "I get the feeling his ex-followers will be paying him a visit at some point…and not the friendly kind."

"He's earned that," Sam pointed out, crouching down to examine the location where the Stone had dissolved into nothing as though it had never existed in the first place. He reached out and traced a finger across the floor, curious to see if any residue had been left behind, but upon removing his fingers he came back with nothing but dust and dirt. "If the Stone is so perfect than why are there fakes?," he straightened up to face Edward, "why not just stick with the real deal?"

Edward shook his head, he too had been staring at the spot on the floor, "I don't' know. The Philosopher Stone is meant to be a substance of purity."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning there shouldn't even _be_ fakes to begin with."

"So that leaves us with the why…why create a fake that works?" Sam pondered, "Why give someone the false impression that they had something they thought would make them invincible?"

"Like I said I don't know," Edward replied dryly, obviously done with Sam's little interrogation. "Anyway I need to get out of here and find Al and Rose," he looked over his shoulder at Sam, "You should probably look for your brother and whoever that old man was."

"Bobby," Sam corrected him, deciding against setting Edward straight on the "old man" bit.

"Whatever," Edward didn't spare the damage in the room another glance as he made his way to the exit. He must be truly angry about this Sam realized, otherwise he would be mouthing off at him for interfering again.

Sam meant to follow him, but something told him to hold back. He gave Ed a couple minutes head start, enough time to get outside the building altogether, before picking his way through the mess to go find the others.

***********************************************************************************

"So the Stone was a _fake_?" Sam had just filled Dean and Bobby in on the recent encounter with Cornello, especially the part involving the chimera which (as Sam had predicted) Dean found highly amusing as well as intriguing.

"Seems so," Sam answered him, they were standing just outside of the church, his gaze sweeping across the exterior. The sun was setting now, the city was quiet, not a soul could be seen wondering the streets. Sam wondered vaguely if the townspeople were waiting for Cornello's next move, or perhaps they were scheming against him. There might be an uprising in Lior tonight, after what Cornello did it was practically inevitable, Sam just wanted to be sure they were gone before it all started.

"Well that sucks," Dean glanced over in the direction of the Elrics, they too were discussing the recent events. Sam could tell by Ed's pained expression, and the defeated set in Al's demeanor, that he was relaying the news about the Stone. Their only hope. Gone just like that.

"Well that's one down at least," Bobby offered optimistically, shifting his weight with his hands shoved into the pockets of his zip-up vest. He regarded the Elrics with a sad look, a look of understanding and pity swelled up in his eyes as he surveyed their body language. They definitely appeared defeated, but Sam knew that somehow, especially with Edward, they would bounce back.

"What do you mean 'one'?" Dean asked him, frowning in Bobby's direction.

"Cornello may have been a pathetic dillhole, but a cannibal he was not," Bobby pointed out.

"So where does that leave _us_?" Dean inquired, obviously dreading the answer.

"It means Hannibal's long-lost brother is still on the loose," Bobby reminded him, "which also means we have an unsolved case here."

"Well if it's not the sketchy little pseudo-priest than what is it?" Dean replied cynically with obvious disdain for the "unsolved" situation. "The chimera maybe?"

"I'm not sure that's it," Sam regarded the Elrics as he spoke, in particular Ed's shredded pants. "When that thing attacked Ed it wasn't trying to eat him…it was only interested in biting him."

"But it's possible this thing could've been snacking on humans at some point?" Bobby gave Sam a hard look, not the kind that's meant to put you in your place, but rather the expression he usually bestowed when he was making absolutely sure the boys had it right.

Sam shook his head and shrugged, "I don't know for sure."

"Well I think it's about high time we got outta here don't you?" Bobby inquired, his I-want-to-take-a-break-from-this look clearly evident.

"Preferably to some place with food," Dean pointed out, his hand traveling absent-mindedly to his stomach. "Man I had to stop and eat the last of my gum earlier just to keep going. I hate that these people don't have fast-food restaurants or something."

"Give it a couple decades they'll catch up eventually," Sam attempted to cheer Dean's crabby mood with good old-fashioned optimistic teasing.

"Well I need _sustenance_ pronto, and no stopping at some shitty diner or coffee shop I need _real food_."

Bobby nodded in the Elric's direction, "Maybe they can point us in the direction of a decent place."

In that moment a figure appeared on the steps before the church, with her white dress and dark hair it wasn't hard to establish that it was Rose. What _was_ hard to establish was the fact that she had a gun in her hand, the .38 revolver from earlier to be exact, and she was pointing at the Elric's. Her shouted "Give me the Philosopher's Stone!" was heard clear across the courtyard.

Sam didn't hesitate, he surged forward, disregarding Dean calling his name in warning, and found himself trotting over to stand next to Al. He slowed his pace so as not to startle Rose, but then again it seemed Rose could be startled by just about anything. She flinched openly upon seeming him, her face a mask of utter despair and remorse, her aim wavering towards his direction before reverting back to Edward, where it stayed.

"Rose," Al replied softly, more surprised than afraid at her presence there, regardless that she was threatening them. He spared a momentary glance at Bobby and Dean who moved cautiously toward them, being careful not to agitate Rose anymore than she already was.

"Like I was just saying," Ed said in response to her threat, "it was a fake. It wasn't real. Besides, it's shattered now."

"Liar!" Rose took a step forward, her aim steady. "You want to keep it for yourself don't you? So you can use it on your bodies! That's right! And so you can try to bring your mother back again!"

Edward's eyes widened upon hearing that last accusation, immediately followed by his angry retort of "You shut up!"

Rose flinched again, her whole body trembled and she appeared on the verge of a meltdown. She stared at Edward, disbelief clearly written in the terrified look on her face. Sam knew what would happen if anyone made any sudden movements, the girl was more than likely to shoot Edward this time. A nervous shot is always the worst kind to deal with, they were unpredictable and more of a threat than someone who was quite savvy with a gun For a person like Rose, any movement or sound could be perceived as a threat against her, and her immediate reflex would be to pull the trigger in self-defense. They would have to work to keep her calm, otherwise she would end up killing someone for real this time.

"People don't come back from the dead Rose…not ever." Edward's anger was swiftly replaced with the same sadness Sam noticed before when loss of family was mentioned. His voice was cracking and he sounded choked up with emotion, "not ever."

Rose crumbled upon hearing those words, she sank to her knees, the gun still cradled in her hands. "But he promised me!" she cried out in desolation, "He said if I prayed it would happen! A miracle!" Her voice grew higher in pitch as her misery overpowered her words. "That hope was all I had left, what am I supposed to believe in now!" She lifted her head to look at them all directly, tears streaming down her face, "Tell me what to do! Please!"

As she spoke these words she sank further to the ground, still shaking. The boys, hunters included, moved forward in Rose's direction, Ed going slightly past her but stopping long enough to address her pleas.

"I can't tell you that," he replied in soft resolution, "you'll have to figure it out. Stand up and walk. Keep moving forward. You've got two good legs, so use them. You're strong enough to make your own path."

When Rose didn't reply to this Edward resumed walking away from the church, Al trailing along silently behind him. Rose, still in shock from the day's trauma, ignored the three hunters that regarded her with a mixture of pity and sadness, tilting her head back to gaze upon the church building. Sam could almost read the thoughts plaguing her mind, the uncertainty of what was once a certainty, the sense of loss of something you believed in, the utter betrayal of someone you had trusted with a fragile part of your life, not to mention the sensation of guilt even though she had nothing to feel guilty about…well except for shooting Al maybe.

He moved to stand in front of her, giving her a second to register his presence before kneeling down in front of her. She couldn't be any older than fifteen or sixteen and already she was living a shattered life, but Edward was right: If she didn't learn to walk on her own two feet again, she would surely waste away.

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you what to believe in, and I'm also not going to tell you how you should live your life," he shifted his weight sheepishly, trying to find the right words. "But if you let this keep you down, you'll be crippled for life. It wasn't the faith that betrayed you, it was the man that represented it, and he did a piss-poor job of that."

Rose sniffled, reaching up to wipe the tears from her face, "But how can I trust it now?…..How can I believe in something if I don't have anything to go by?"

Sam hated addressing topics of religion, particularly questions regarding the essence of faith, there was always the issue of lack of evidence. Without evidence people just didn't believe anything, hell even hunters suffered from such a handicap from time to time, only believing certain monsters exist solely because they fought them face-to-face. For all they knew aliens actually did exist, but then again maybe they didn't. There was once a time when Sam believed in a higher power, one that sought to protect the human race, to watch over them like a father would watch over his children. But after years of dealing with angels and demons, and hearing certain resolutions to the contrary of his childish beliefs, that hope had shattered just like the remaining pleasantries his childhood thoughts used to bring him.

"Well Ed is right about that," was the only answer he could give her. "That's something you'll have to figure out on your own. I'm just saying….don't let one misguided person color your judgment on it, that's all."

She looked into his eyes, uncertainty clashing with a dim hope in the purple depths, and for a brief moment Sam was sure the corners of her mouth twitched. But no smile came.

Leaving it at that, he straightened, his muscles beginning to scream in protest with all the prolonged exercise. He motioned for the others to follow him, leaving Rose sitting dazed and confused in the courtyard of the church.

"Now what Dr. Phil?" Dean asked Sam teasingly, "Shouldn't you at least hug her before we leave?"

"Shut up," Sam glanced ahead of them. Ed and Al's receding forms were still in sight, but the trio would have to move quickly to catch up with them.

"You want to talk with them?" Dean followed Sam's gaze, suddenly serious.

"I think our minds are in synch," Bobby pointed ahead. "Looks as though they want to talk with us too."

In the distance, from what they could tell, the Elrics had stopped walking and now stood facing in their direction almost expectantly. Upon catching up to them, Al held out his hand, his glove-fingers clasped around a folded piece of paper that he offered to Sam. "Here," he said, half turned from his brother who now stood facing slightly away from them as though he wanted no part in this. "Take it."

"What is it?" Sam asked, reaching out to pluck the paper from his grasp. He unfolded it to find a phone number and address written hastily, with a name that read…..

"Izumi Curtis?" Dean looked up at Al with furrowed eyebrows. "Who's that?"

"Our teacher," Al explained, "she taught us alchemy…..she can help you."

Sam didn't know what to make of it, it appeared almost as though the boys were pulling some cheap trick, his expression seemingly displayed his skepticism for Ed responded next.

"Don't get too worked up about it….and don't get your hopes up this early," he turned to face them directly, his eyes synching with Sam's as he spoke. "She may not want to take on new students."

"Is this for real?" Bobby inquired, verbally echoing Sam's suspicion.

Ed simply shrugged. "Take it or leave it…but…..", he sighed heavily turning his head to gaze at the sunset just beyond the city, there was a stubborn set to his features but his eyes seemed thoughtful. "Equivalent Exchange right Sam?" he turned to face them again, a half-smile playing at his youthful face, "after all you did save my life."

"Quite a few times actually" Sam reminded him lightly, but dared not to push it any further than that. But Edward didn't seem to mind, his only response was a curt nod in agreement.

"Why do I get the feeling you've got a twisted arm right now Elric?" Dean folded his arms, eyebrows still furrowed with his lack of trust.

Edward didn't respond verbally, choosing instead to give a daggering sideways look at Alphonse who rubbed the back of his helmet as though he'd just been caught stealing candy from a store. "Well…I sort of badgered him on the way here to think about it….helping you guys I mean….he only agreed to just now," he straightened to regard Sam with what the younger Winchester believed was a meditative expression, "But I get the feeling he's only agreeing to this to pay Sam back for helping us….."

"And to see if you fail….which you probably will knowing Teacher," Edward's boyishly cynical humor had returned. Fists on his hips, he looked at the trio with an expression that reminded Sam of Cornello, reminiscing of a futuristic victory that he'd hoped to gain through his "mindless horde". Except the gleam in Edward's eyes wasn't for the sake of world domination by any means, but rather the enjoyment of a troll-worthy prank. He really was a kid at times, still young, still entertained by childish things. Deep down Sam hoped he would hang on to that humor, he would need it in the future when things became even more rough.

"Well thanks for the vote of confidence Macaulay Culkin" Dean snarked, snatching the paper from Sam and waving in their direction just before he pocketed it. "We'll be in touch," with that he mockingly saluted Ed and then walked past them in the direction of the train station. Bobby and Sam exchanged a look and a shrug before the older man followed, nodding to the Elrics as he went along. Only Sam remained behind, because _someone_ had to thank the boys properly.

He held out his hand to Al, who shook it. Sam could tell the boy was being careful to watch his movements, lack of nerves made it difficult to discern whether or not you gripped your acquaintance's hand too lightly or too tight. Not to mention whether or not you were shaking it too hard.

"Good luck," Al told him, and he truly meant it. "And try not to get on Teacher's bad side okay?"

"Thanks for the warning," Sam half smiled, turning to face Edward. Fleshed palm made contact with cold metal as they too shook hands.

"I hope you two can find the…..you know…..Stone," Sam said in earnest. And he really did. After everything these boys had suffered, they deserved to find the Stone.

"Sure thing," Ed somewhat mirrored Sam's expression with a boyish grin. "Just one thing….about Teacher….."

"Yes?"

Edward appeared to think for a moment, his expression turning serious. "She huh…well…she has a tendency to….well you'll see," he released Sam's grip, shoving his fists into his pockets. "Just don't freak out or let it get to you…she's stronger than she looks….you'll find that out for yourself."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond other than to nod, he waved at the two of them before walking past to catch up to the other two. Trotting a bit, Sam eventually fell into a walk beside Dean, pulling up his collar as the premature coldness of night began to settle in.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked him, glancing behind them in the direction of the Elrics.

"Just the usual goodbyes accompanied by awkwardness," Sam replied, following his gaze to find that the two boys were now gone. Sam wondered if maybe they were going back for something, he could've sworn they were headed to the station as well.

"Did he say anything else?" Bobby queried, giving Sam a sideways glance.

The younger Winchester simply shrugged, "Nothing much. Just a warning about this Teacher person"

"What about?"

"I'm not sure….." Sam glanced back again. Still no Elrics. "I guess we'll find out when we get there."

"Where exactly _is_ Dublith anyway?" Dean pointed out, a hint of whining in his tone.

"That's what maps are for genius," Bobby replied flippantly. Sam took this short-lived moment of typical behavior to revel in what he liked to believe was the kind of normalcy he looked forward to after a hard days work of fighting abnormal monsters. It was nice to slide back into the wonderful routine of snarky banter every once in a while. It was a subtle reminder that they could have normal moments, if not normal lives, at the very least.

"The train station is this way right?" Dean pointed to their left, obviously attempting to bypass Bobby's remark.

"No it's that way," Sam pointed somewhere to their right.

"Speaking of needing a map…." Bobby began, picking up the pace in order to find a passerby who could give them directions.

The atmosphere in the city was beginning to fill with tension, it practically crackled with restlessness as though something big was about to happen. Sam had no doubt about that, after today's events he was surprised that chaos had yet to take reign over the streets already.

There was going to be a riot tonight for sure.

Torches lit the night, as well as the hundreds of enraged faces as Cornello's former followers crowded the church courtyard, demanding that the priest reveal himself. Along with their flaming beacons they also carried pitchforks, knives and assorted other household items-turned-weapons. Their shouts echoed across the churchyard, angry retorts and demands of an explanation mixed with the saddened cries of the betrayed.

Inside the darkened interior of the church, just within the bowels of the sanctuary, Cornello lay face-down in a small pool of his own blood. A hole pierced clean through his head. His arm was still misshapen from the little alchemical incident early that day, still shirtless as well, his hulking form suddenly held in the grasp of a much larger man. He had beefy hands, no neck, and his belly was about the size of Cornello altogether.

"I dare say, this is quite the setback," a seductive voice spoke just beyond the reach of what little light was streaming into the room. The yellowish glow was a silhouette for the strangely large man as he lifted Cornello's lifeless form towards his gaping mouth. He wore a black sleeveless top and black pants and dark boots. His teeth were each the size of the kind of box wrist-watches were placed in, his eyes gleaming red as his tongue rolled about along his mouth and flicked in the direction of Cornello's head. It dripped heavily with saliva, emphasizing the man's obvious desire to feast, the golden glow of the dim light revealing the red Ouroboros marking.

"Gluttony try not to make a mess," the seductive voice replied, its owner stepping into the light. It was a young woman with ivory skin, her raven hair fell in wavy curls down her back and framed her angular face. She had darkened lips, and eyes that flashed with anticipation, almost like a cat on the prowl. She wore black gloves on each hand that went all the way up her arm and past her elbows, matching the black dress she wore. It was strapless, seeming to have been made specifically for her body the way it hugged her curves. A small slit in the dress revealed the black boots on her feet, and the low-cut design revealed the red Ouroboros on her chest as well as the obvious emphasis of her bosom.

"Father will not be pleased…..he will have to be told of this," she folded her arms, picking at the fabric of her gloves with her free hand.

"What should we do about the Elric brat?" A third member to the group appeared, this voice belonged to what appeared to be a young man with a smooth and youthful face. Although he was obviously male, his voice was somewhat feminine, a bit raspy with a mocking tone. His hair was as dark as the woman's, save for the green tint of it. He wore a black top, sleeveless, that revealed his trim midsection, black shorts and black shoes that were cut open at the tips to reveal his toes. On each hand he wore fingerless gloves. All three of them matched not only in clothing style, but the red lines along their outfits as well that ran the length of even their limbs, connecting certain points in some strange form of fashion.

"Leave them be Envy," the woman replied, suddenly preoccupied with her nails even though her gloves concealed them. "They'll play their part soon enough."

"Naturally," the man, Envy, agreed with a smirk. "It's those three friends of theirs that concerns me now."

"You mean the Winchester boys and the old man?" the woman tilted her head to gaze at Envy, her dark hair partially concealing her face which held no apparent interest nor concern regarding the subject. "Don't worry, they won't be a problem….but should they become one," she reached out her right hand, extending her fingers which suddenly elongated. She slashed through the air cutting away at a few of the pews and tearing them to pieces with a single fatal swoop of her hand, ribbons of debris fluttered around in the aftermath.

"That can be fixed if necessary….those boys mean nothing to us anyway."

Envy simply grinned at the woman's malicious demonstration, the wild look in his eyes helping to emphasize his joy at the thought of causing mayhem.

"Lust I'm still hungry," the large man, or Gluttony as he was called, patted his well-rounded belly and regarded the woman with a childlike expression of neediness. He sat on the floor, stubby legs poking out from beneath his large form, small remains of what used to be Cornello all around him.

"What did the priest do?" Envy replied, suddenly realizing that the priest was no longer among the living.

"I'm afraid he became too much, in the end it was almost poetic the way he fell," Lust slithered to stand next to Envy, her fingers having returned to their regular size. She smoothed the fabric of the gloves as she spoke, eyes cutting to glance at Gluttony, "You've made a mess again. Wipe yourself off before someone else sees." Although there was a latent tone of urgency, she could not be any calmer.

"Who's to say those hunters won't figure out what's going on?" Envy pointed out, one hand on his right hip, the other gesticulating as he spoke. "I mean really, they're not the brightest but give them enough clues…and they could pose a problem after all."

"Or…" Lust began, a small seductive grin caressing her pale face, "…..they could prove helpful to the cause…..I mean after all with the way the younger man fought with Elric….we shall see them teaming up again _real _soon."

Envy's expression was almost lustful at this new plan formation, he crossed his arms and beamed at his partner, revealing large and pointy teeth.

"Hey! Who are you and what are you doing here? Where's Father Cornello?" One of the priest's little minions, a higher up by the looks of his dark robes, appeared suddenly and was gesturing wildly at the three of them. His wide-eyed expression was focused on Gluttony and the bloodstains on his face and clothes, as well as the remains of Cornello's clothing on the floor.

"Gluttony…." Lust interceded the conversation in a calmly manner.

Gluttony lifted himself off the floor, eyes darting from Lust to the minion with childlike curiosity, "Yes?"

"Time for dessert."


	11. Black Magic Woman

"Sam!"

The younger Winchester lifted his face from the paper he was reading to find the familiar metal form of Alphonse waving at him from a distance. The train-yard was packed with people coming and going from the bustling town of Dublith. This town was not as big nor as excitable as Central, but it definitely held its own grace and charm. The houses were almost crammed together, each perimetered with a white picket fence, seemingly like the fair towns of Italy with each home adjacent to the next. Though the closeness would bring even someone like Sam to a phantom form of claustrophobia, it didn't seem to bother the townspeople at all.

Sam waved Al over, disengaging himself from his comfortable propping against the wall, having been engrossed in the local newspaper. It was more or less instinct rather than simple curiosity that motivated him to read the stories, or at the very least glance over the titles. As a hunter it was essential to check out the local news of whatever town they happened to be staying in, just in case something in their particular category of "strange" was abroad and needed taking care of. A town like Dublith held no such qualms, in fact it was peaceful. Too peaceful for Dean's standards because according to him there was "nothing to do".

On the contrary, they'd had _plenty_ to do.

"Hey Al, long time." Sam reached out to grasp the younger Elric's glove-hand, feeling almost relieved to see him. The last two months hadn't been the easiest, and it was almost nice to see a (somewhat) familiar face that wasn't screwed up with intense concentration and sternness.

"Same to you," Al responded pleasantly, his attitude towards Sam having evolved from cautious curiosity and politeness to that of someone who regarded you as an equal if not a friend. Al still held back on fully trusting Sam to some degree, but the boy was willing to give the Winchesters the benefit of the doubt. That was all Sam could hope for at the time, not wanting to push things too far.

"So where's Ed?" Sam noted that the older Elric was nowhere to be seen. Usually the two were inseparable, so having just the one was almost unsettling. The way it was unsettling for Sam to be separated from Dean, especially during a hunt.

"He's over at the food stand," Al pointed. Sam followed the direction of his finger to find Ed stationed at a nearby food-stand that sold a variety of snacks. Ed was busy scanning through the choices, his youthful face creaseless and full of childish delight. So there was yet another similarity to Dean, whose own stomach seemed to be a bottomless pit.

"Never ceases to amaze me that your brother is just like mine," Sam admitted, making a huffing sound with a half smile.

Al gave a small laugh, "You'd think that would put them on better terms."

"Not so much. I don't think Ed has forgiven him for calling him short," Sam pointed out.

"He'll get over it if he hasn't already," Al reassured him, understanding that the trivial information regarded much more than a simple conflict of attitudes. "So how's the alchemy training?"

Sam huffed again, almost cracking into a full smile. "I'm sure you know Al."

Sam was sure if Alphonse could smile, he would've done it just then. However the way he was focusing on Sam, and the carefree stance to his posture, not to mention the small laugh, gave the impression that he was in agreement. "Oh boy do I," was all he said, and all he really needed to say.

Because Al did know. Truly. And now Sam and Dean knew as well.

"I've just returned from a trip and am looking forward to resting," the woman folded her arms across her chest and regarded the Winchesters with suspicion as well as a touch of sternness. "Besides I do not take on students."

Izumi Curtis was sixty-some-odd inches of pure badass. That's all there was to it really. She had black hair that was kept in braids, all of which she tied back with a red band save for a couple of strands that hung around her face acting as bangs. Her eyes were black, her mouth firm and seemingly permanently set into either a frown or thin line. She wore a white button-up dress that reached to around her knees, the top few buttons undone to reveal that the woman was really…..well….._gifted_ would've been Dean's way of describing it. The openness also revealed a tattoo just above her left breast, the same symbol Sam had witnessed on the back of Ed's red coat. It was the symbol of the Flamel he'd come to learn, and it was Izumi's signature trademark. She also wore black capris to about her ankles and red single-strapped sandals with the initials "W.C" adorning them.

To say that Ed and Al obviously looked up to Izumi, or "Teacher" as they called her, was the understatement of the century (the 20th century at that). Although Sam understood that the admiration the Elrics felt was more or less a product of respectable fear rather than being in awe of her abilities. And boy did she have abilities, the kind that even Dean would be crazy to attempt challenging, but he needn't the necessity to instigate anything. Izumi displayed her own brand of skill and affection without question or request, her fist having slammed into Dean's head on more than one occasion.

When she had turned down the boys' request for alchemy lessons, Sam had been sure they were officially screwed. But part of the note Ed had given him had been a personal message to Izumi from Ed himself, requesting that she take them on as pupils in order to help them with whatever troubles they were having. Sam had the feeling that Ed was subliminally mocking their plight (and so-called "wild tale" of alternate realities), in some vain hope that she would turn them down altogether without giving them the chance they so desperately needed.

But turning back was not an option, so the only option left at the point of her initial refusal had been persuasion….or in Dean's case humorous charm.

"You taught the Elric's didn't you? " he gave her a sly grin, leaning back in his chair. "You're not discriminate against teaching foreigners are you?" He'd meant it as a joke, but it only made Izumi frown even further.

Dammit Dean.

They had been sitting in the Curtis' kitchen on that day, Izumi watching them as though they were criminals of some kind and her husband, Sid, looming over her protectively. Sid was taller than Sam unbelievably enough, his height reaching roughly six-foot-five or more. His vertical advancement wasn't the only amazing thing to behold, the man was built. Seriously _built_. He was rippling with muscle, the strained marks on his shirt evident of the kind of muscle power he obviously had. He had hair that was dark, though not as dark as his wife's, cut short with a small beard and a mustache. Even though he appeared dangerous, the look in his eyes spoke of something peaceful, giving off the impression of him as the equivalent of a gentle giant. The way he showed tenderness to Izumi was further proof of this, specifically in the way he held her or spoke to her, full of patience and concern.

Sam had hoped like hell he wouldn't ever have to fight the man.

"I'm not taking on any students and that's final," Izumi responded firmly, forehead creasing with her vehemence. Her eyes were focused mainly on Dean but she had cast a glance or two at Sam over the course of their discussion. The only time she had given him her full attention was when he'd presented Ed's note to her, hoping she would honor Ed's written request for her help. But at the moment it didn't seem to be doing the trick.

"What about Ed's note?" Sam attempted, knowing it was more than likely a useless effort.

"Tell me this," Izumi leaned forward to place her elbows on the table, hands placed together in a thoughtful manner, her frown lessened slightly as she did so. "What is it that drives you to learn alchemy? Do you think it is simply made up of cheap parlor tricks? I can assure you there is more to it than a way to do a quick-fix if a plate is broken or your clothes are torn."

"You mean Equivalent Exchange?" Sam offered.

Izumi's eyebrow shot up the slightest fraction, "You are familiar with the Laws of alchemy?"

"Just the one," Sam admitted, almost ashamedly. "We need you for the rest."

"Look Mrs. Curtis," Dean had abandoned the comedic strategy and chose to be serious instead. "We get that you think we're just a couple of morons trying to learn something to impress people with or do stupid stuff," he continued, placing a fist on the table, "but we need you to understand that what we need it for is more important than that…It's our only way home. I wish we could tell you more but there are some things you wouldn't understand."

"And if you're worried we'll attempt Human Transmutation or something you don't have to be," Sam reassured her. "We know the consequences of messing with life that way, it's not on our agenda." Izumi's eyes had widened slightly at the mention of Human Transmutation, but she had remained rigid nonetheless.

"We're willing to pay you for your troubles if that's the case," Dean pointed out.

She sighed heavily, leaning back into her chair and replacing her arms to their former position folded across her chest. "That won't be necessary…..I'll teach you as much as you are capable of learning."

Sam felt as though a weight had been lifted just a fraction off of his shoulders, having finally found a way to learn alchemy.

"But understand this," Izumi went on, lifting her face to make direct eye contact with the two of them, her gaze clear and steady. "I am doing this upon Edward's request and nothing more. His note of reference is not a method of clearing you from my teaching standards. I am tough but I am fair. If you are willing to learn alchemy you must accept the responsibility of all that learning implies."

"Which is what exactly?" Dean seemed almost afraid to ask.

Her face smoothed over into a casual smile, one that spoke more of a challenge than pleasantry. "You'll see soon enough."

Thinking back on it now, compared to the alternative, they had been rather lucky. Izumi still regarded them with a level of suspicion, but she more or less kept her opinions to herself in what she thought of their situation and reasons for learning alchemy. As long as they had her as a teacher, the boys were willing to take the ball and chain that came with it. Dean had had a particularly tough time adjusting to her teaching methods, but after years of hunting and training with dad, it hadn't taken very long to pick up on the patterns. It hadn't been just the alchemy lessons that had been tough, it was everything that came with it, including sparring which neither Sam or Dean had ever done in their entire life. Their father had always taught them how to fight military-style, not a single lesson in martial arts was ever included.

But they had asked for it, more specifically _Sam_ had asked for it. It had been his idea after all.

"So where's your friend Bobby? And Dean?" Al asked Sam, raising his voice slightly to exceed the steady (yet loud) hum of the train-yard.

Sam turned to face the younger Elric again, "Bobby's in Central right now, he decided to do some research and keep us posted on whatever he finds. Dean's back at the house, probably eating or getting his ass kicked…..or both."

Al laughed at that, "Sounds about right. So Teacher hasn't changed at all then." Ed had just left the stand and was making his way to them, a suitcase in one hand and a sandwich in the other, to which he was greedily munching on.

"You know we'll be eating once we get there," Al reminded him sternly. "And stalling isn't going to help."

"I'm just trying to calm my nerves that's all," Ed wasn't trying to be cocky or anything. In fact he looked almost…..fearful. Sam didn't have to ask why, he'd already figured it out.

"You know when Dean gets nervous about something he usually hums Metallica," Sam told him, subtly offering a suggestion to help the boy.

"What's Metallica?" Ed asked him, mouth full of sandwich.

"It's uh…..it's a band…..they're famous back where we're from," Sam explained.

"Huh," was all Ed responded with. He didn't seem to particularly care to learn more, but if Sam were in his shoes he'd probably be the same way with information like that. It wasn't necessarily important after all, but it was still strange to live in a place where no one even knew about the band, much less any other band from their old world. Even though Sam wasn't even a fan of them, he was still familiar with their music, he had Dean to blame for that.

"So how was the island?" Ed asked him, gulping down a large bite of sandwich and chomping off another. He seemed eager to learn about this particular part of their time with the Curtis'. _Too_ eager in fact, and Sam didn't have to ask why. He knew what Ed was referring to.

"She's kidding right? Please tell me this a joke," Dean spoke half-heartedly, the two of them knowing that Izumi was more than likely the last person on the planet to ever attempt a practical joke. "This is so wrong."

Sam had wanted to voice his agreement, but encouraging Dean's degrading attitude would only make things worse. Glancing around, he noted the immense forest behind them, white sandy beach at their feet, and the steady rippling of the waves as they came crashing in softly. That same water was helping to carry Izumi and Sid who were rowing casually away in their little rowboat, Izumi waving at them cheerfully. It was that kind of cheerfulness Sam associated with villains just before they took of their victims head or something. She had left the two of them stranded on a remote island in the middle of some big damn lake, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a knife she'd given them.

"All is one, and one is all. You have one month to figure out what that means."

A month? A whole damn month? _Here?_

"That woman is nuts, I'm telling you something's not right up here," Dean pointed at his head and whistled a "coo-coo" tune as he twirled his finger in a circular motion to imply that Izumi was crazy. "I mean I've seen Lost, cool show and all, but _living it_? That was never on my bucket list."

"What should we do first?" Sam turned to face their current challenge, which was to become familiar with their temporary island home without food or shelter. "She said alchemy is strictly forbidden…..not that we know how to use it anyway."

"I think she just told us that for kicks," Dean suggested in a grumble, reaching down to retrieve the knife form where it had landed by their feet. "We've never gone _hunting_-hunting a day in our lives, how the hell are we supposed to just pick up on it now?"

Sam shrugged, he was equally as lost as Dean. "People have been surviving that way for thousands of years. Who's to say we can't do it?"

"My stomach for starters," Dean pointed out, emphasizing his words by placing a hand across his belly and looking disgustedly at the woods behind them. "I don't care how bad it gets, I'm not going on some rabbit-food diet."

"If you're hungry enough Dean you'll eat it, trust me." Sam didn't have the energy nor the patience to argue with him right now. If Dean was going to be stubborn than he would end up starving as a result. Sam on the other hand was used to snacking on salads and attempting to maintain a healthy diet, so this shouldn't be too bad for him. It was getting things going that would be the problem. After all they had to survive out here for a whole month, and they needed to get the essentials first.

"We should probably build a shelter or something, in case it rains."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Dean ask him, one eyebrow arched with his accusation.

"Are you implying that I'm so much of a masochist that I'm willing to torture myself in hearing you whine about not having any pie?" Sam looked at him pointedly, having attempted to say all of that with a straight face.

Dean did his famous smile-shrug with his mouth and scoffed. "Point taken."

It hadn't been easy to say the least, getting motivated into capturing and preparing their own food was the hardest part. Neither of them had ever gone hunting aside from what their job required, so it was only natural that even Dean felt sickened when they had finally caught a live rabbit and Sam had handed him the knife.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with that?' Dean looked at him in astonishment, baffled that his brother would even suggest that he bring harm to a rabbit.

"I caught it, now it's your turn," Sam had replied almost harshly. He sure as hell wasn't going to skin the thing, the very idea of it made his stomach knot up.

Killing monsters was one thing. Killing animals was something else.

"Damn _it_," Dean had growled in protest but he'd snatched the knife from Sam's grasp anyway. "Why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal huh?"

"You want to eat don't you?" Sam had pointed out to him for about he fifth time. "Something other than vegetables and fruit?"

Dean was all for returning to a carnivore-approved diet, but he still had trouble motivating himself into cutting the thing up. It was over quickly, and Sam came to find that if you tried not to focus on the situation too much, it wasn't as bad as it could be.

They'd spent their next month like that, pulling stunts they'd never dreamed they would ever have to do. The worst of which was the lack of proper hygiene, but they tried to make due with the natural elements as a way of compensating for that. They even went as far as using water and leaves to attempt "brushing" their teeth. It wasn't until the end of the first week that the two of them actually attempted to discuss what Izumi had ordered them to figure out.

"What do you think it means? 'All is one and one is all', what is that?" Dean had been lying on his back gazing at the stars when he'd asked that question.

Sam shrugged, sitting Indian-style and leaning against a tree-trunk, doing some glancing of his own at the night sky. "No idea. Sounds like some Disney crap."

"Disney crap?"

"Yeah, like with The Lion King," Sam had pointed out. "The circle of life."

"I always forget how girly you are," Dean had sat up at that point to face his brother. "What do you mean 'the circle of life'? Like with how we die and we become the Earth, and then some poor bastard feeds on our remains? It's the food chain right?"

"I guess," was all Sam said in response to that. "I mean everything's connected right? We die, we become the grass, cows eat grass…."

"And I love to eat cows," Dean replied, licking his lips. "I could go for a steak right now. That rabbit just doesn't cut it like beef does."

"I get the feeling she's expecting more than just a biology lesson about the food chain though," Sam ignored Dean's voicing of his meat-cravings. "What does the circle of life have to do with the phrase?"

"You got me," Dean rolled over to lay on his back again, bracing his hands behind his head like a pillow. "I plan on sleeping on it for now."

"We're down to three weeks Dean. If we keep sleeping on it than we might as well just give up."

"Sammy take a chill pill…..or a chill rabbit in our case. Three weeks is plenty of time, besides," Dean yawned, "I'm too full and too tired to ponder over it right now. Let's get some shut-eye. I'm sure with your geek-engineered mind you'll figure out something in the morning."

Another week had passed them by, and still they couldn't quite wrap their heads around it. It wasn't until one afternoon, when Dean was drawing designs into the sand out of sheer boredom, that it occurred to Sam. He'd been watching his brother make little "doodles" with a stick, a couple of stick figures (he was guessing they represented the two of them), what looked like waves to represent the lake itself. He'd drawn an "island" for the stick figures to stand on, with a few trees here and there, and a circle representing the sun in the sky. Sam had stared at it for several moments before clarity hit and he'd grabbed the stick from Dean's hand.

"Hey get your own, there's plenty!" He'd snapped at him, but Sam was too wound up with excitement to care.

"Look!" Sam ordered him, using the stick to draw a series of shapes as well as a second larger circle around Dean's "sun". When he finished he looked expectantly at Dean, as though they were silently on the same page, but Dean had stared at him with raised eyebrows and a Should-I-have-you-committed? expression.

"If you keep this up, I'm voting you off the island." He shook his head, "What am I supposed to be looking at?" His tone had reflected the annoyance he felt with Sam having snatched his precious stick.

"It's a Transmutation circle," Sam explained.

"Yeah, one that you made out of my sun," Dean snapped at him. "That was a damn good circle too, I was actually enjoying an artistic moment and you ruined it." Obviously the island life had done a number on his temper after all this time.

"Dean _think_ about it, what does the sun _do_?" Sam asked pointedly, hopeful eyes glued to his brother's face waiting for him to understand.

Dean looked at him as though he were crazy…."It gives off light so we can see."

"And what is light?"

Dean frowned, "It's energy isn't it?"

"Exactly," Sam smiled for the first time since they'd arrived on the island. This was the part of research that always gave him a unique kind of adrenaline rush, that moment when he discovered the missing piece to whatever puzzle they were trying to solve with a case. It was always quite thrilling to experience it, even though it was a constant reminder of his geeky ways. Still he couldn't help but feel proud with his accomplishment. "And what is the _one thing_ about energy that they always tried to knock into our heads in school?"

Dean let his eyes scan around absent-mindedly as he pondered the question. "Wait a minute….," a crooked grin started to form at the corner of his mouth, "you mean all that nonsense about how energy is neither created or destroyed? That it flows continuously?"

"Yes that's exactly it," Sam mentally gave him brownie-points for remembering that. Dean may be sarcastic with an education hat didn't exceed past a GED, but there was no denying he was intelligent in his own boyish way. "That same energy works in the food chain. It starts off with the sun, goes down to the plants, those are eaten by rabbits, and predators eat the rabbits."

"And then nature does its duty and the predators eventually die," Dean jumped in on the explanation. "Their bodies are broken down, they become a part of the plants, and the cycle just keeps going."

"Alchemy is the same way," Sam explained, his excitement increasing now that Dean had finally caught on. "Al explained that it's a three-step process. You have something made, you break it down, and use the materials to create something else."

"Just like our bodies break down the food we eat and we use it as part of our own systems," Dean finished for him. He had folded his arms across his chest at that point, face screwed up with concentration, "So everything is connected in a way."

"Yeah there's a flow to everything, it's an entire ecosystem technically," Sam continued. "If you think about it like a machine, you take out one part and it ultimately affects other parts. The whole system could fail."

"Just like what happened with the Elric's," Dean had pointed out, "they messed around with the flow with trying to resurrect their mom and got screwed in the end."

"That's what it means to mess with the flow," Sam finished for him, "messing with the flow means messing with the natural order of life. We're all born and eventually we die, that's just how it is."

"Well I hate to break it to you little brother but based on our experience that's not entirely true…..for us anyway."

"True," Sam agreed, shaking his head. "But they don't need to know about all that."

"I'm with you there."

Then had come the official training, which Sam had become too inwardly excited over to fully understand just what they were getting themselves into. It took more than simply drawing circles into the ground and attempting to activate the alchemical power, there was a level of intense concentration that came with it. It was a method of thinking that you had to adjust to using, not only was it important to visualize what the outcome should look like, but you also had to be mindful of the components involved in the production process and eventually the final product. It wasn't simply knowing what elements were involved with whatever object, it was understanding the exact amount (or close enough) required of each element. Thankfully Sam had taken Honors Chemistry back in high school, and he remembered most of the elements and what things they were associated with. But that hadn't stopped him from spending countless hours looking over the periodic table with Dean and discussing what worked with what else. Izumi's main issue with their learning was that they were limiting themselves to weapon-centered basics, but for some strange reason she never pressured them to drop it altogether. Though that didn't stop her from strongly encouraging them to learn about the common components of other things as well.

And by "strongly encourage" it more or less meant that she would either yell or hit you on the head if you didn't listen.

From what Sam remembered, based on the things he read in the letters Al had sent him over the past few weeks, it had taken the Elrics' years of reading and practicing to get the full grasp of using alchemy. Sam and Dean didn't have the luxury of time in that regard, and were at the moment trying to cram all of that information in only a few months if possible. Sam hated the idea of spending a year here much less several just to learn the alchemical arts, but if it meant finding a way home he was willing to take the risk. Thankfully Dean appeared to be of the same mentality for his whining about learning it had ceased after the first couple of weeks of official training.

"Heard you busted up your automail," Sam pointed to Ed's metal arm, "but it seems to be okay now."

"Yeah we paid a visit to my mechanic, it's all good now," Ed subconsciously put a hand on his right arm, one finger tapping against it as though testing to be sure it was truly there.

"I think Al mentioned that your mechanic, Winry right? She's an old family-friend?" Sam was attempting to make polite conversation, more or less testing to see if Ed's attitude towards him had improved during their two-month-long separation.

"We've known each other since we were little, we practically grew up next to each other," Ed explained, shifting his position as though he didn't like where the conversation was headed. "So Al was still calling you right up to now huh?"

"Basically. It was only to keep tabs," Sam reassured him.

"Uh-huh," was all Ed responded with, but Sam had the feeling he disapproved of his and Al's constant communication.

It had been a slow-go at first, Al having left a number for the next hotel he and Ed would be staying in case they needed to contact them for an emergency, and continuously giving numbers for each of their stops as he went along. There was one incident where Sam had come close to using that emergency-card, but things had turned in a different direction and the gesture had become unnecessary. Other than that, Al and been sending Sam letters each week to keep him up-to-date with their mission to find the Stone and all that entailed. Sam naturally couldn't respond with a written letter, the Elric's never stayed in one place for too long no matter what. Instead Sam resorted to waiting for Al to call him whenever he got the chance. Initially the calls were Al's method of checking up on the Winchesters and their progress in learning alchemy, naturally unable to know about how their first month had gone considering their time on the island. However Sam had caught him up on all that, particularly Dean's struggle with living out in the wild. That had gained some laughter from Alphonse, but also a sigh because he remembered his time on the island perfectly well and was fully sympathetic with Sam and Dean in that regard.

Al's letters had included bits of their journey mixed in with paragraph-long (or more) explanations about so-and-so and what did what and what was found where. Sam now knew all about the boys run-in with a famed serial killer nicknamed Scar, Dr. Marcoh's hidden message, the truth behind the components of the Stone, the incident at the Fifth Laboratory, as well as the fact that the Elric's had witnessed a birth. Sam had learned that Scar could use alchemy as well, no circles or anything, and part of his master plan was to rid the world of State Alchemist so inevitably Ed and Al had become mixed up with the guy who Al explained was an Ishvalan. Sam had had to ask Izumi about the story regarding that, since Al's letter never explained anything further than the man's ethnicity. He did however go on to tell him that Ed's arm had become busted up in the fight, and Al had lost a majority of his body as well. This speed-bump had lead them Ed's mechanic Winry, and from what Sam could tell of how Al spoke of her, she was really quite something.

But what intrigued him the most was the incident that lead to their little road-trip to Risembool, particularly Scar's ability to use alchemy without a circle.

"I've even seen Ed and Izumi do it, how does that work?" Sam had been speaking to Al over the phone after reading the letter that addressed the particular incident in question. "I thought the whole mess with alchemy in general was that you needed a circle."

"I'm not sure," Al had tried to think of a way to explain, but he himself was still confused by it all, well Scar's part of it anyway. "He shouldn't be able to do that, and besides alchemy goes against his country's teachings. The Ishvalans hate alchemy for what it did to their people, they think it violates the natural order."

"Well that makes sense," Sam had paused to think for a moment but had come up with nothing. "So what about Ed and Teacher?" He'd eventually started calling her that since that's how the Elric's addressed her and that was the only way Al referenced her at all in his letters and phone calls.

"I'm not sure, she's always been able to do that ever since we first met her," Al had explained. "Ed was only able to do it too, but only after…"

Sam waited for him to answer, but was met with silence. "Yes? After what?"

"Never mind…..I don't know," was his only answer.

Sam sighed mentally, having wondered at the time if it would be worth it to continue asking about it, but instead he'd allowed the subject to drop. Al would get back to it when he could. Besides Sam had had enough on his plate at the moment to keep him occupied, there was still some reading he'd needed to finish.

But Al never did get back to it. In fact he never brought it up again.

"How's Teacher?" Ed's question broke through Sam's flashbacks, the older brother's blatant concern reminding Sam of the first time he'd witnessed Izumi on one of her rough days.

She'd been teaching them a lesson as usual, describing to them the concept of the flow of energy in all things, and to harness that energy you needed a structural matrix on your circle that was specific to the alchemy you wish to perform. In the midst of this lesson, when she and Dean were sparring (it had taken him quite some time to get used to the idea of fighting her), she had opened her mouth to let out a gush of blood. Needless to say Dean had believed he'd done something wrong, and had been on the verge of flipping out altogether. Sam had yelled for Sid, who'd come rushing outside to gather Izumi in his arms with tender care and escort her to her room where she stayed for the rest of the day. When Sid had eventually emerged from her room, Dean had spent the first five minutes of their conversation with the man in apologizing for his actions, telling the big-guy that he'd had no intentions of hurting her and hadn't realized at the time that fighting with her may be riskier than she let on. Sid had waved them both off, explaining that it wasn't the lesson nor the sparring that had brought this on, but a natural occurrence alone. He'd told them that incidents like this will happen from time-to-time, and that they shouldn't worry so much, but it was best to be mindful in not allowing Izumi to push herself too far. For now she only needed rest.

"She's doing fine," Sam reassured Ed, a soft smile playing at his mouth. "She was getting onto Dean about something when I left to come and meet you two so I get the feeling she's on cloud-ten right now."

For the first time since Sam had met him, Edward Elric laughed, actually and honestly _laughed_. And why not? The concept alone was comical enough, but for Sam it was like sharing an inside joke with friends, and even more importantly it was a good sign. Ed may not like the Winchesters all that much, but knowing they could find some common ground was reassuring that their future wasn't as bleak as it once seemed.

So maybe the kid was on their side after all.

"And the lessons?" Ed's curiosity seemed to be overriding his instinct to distance his own concerns away from the Winchesters', either that or he was merely attempting friendly conversation. "Al and I were only capable of making little figurines and origami when we first started out."

"That sounds about right for us," Sam was willing to play along with this temporary truce. "Dean attempted to 'clean' his semi-automatic once and well….let's just say it needs fixing now."

The actual attempts to transmute objects out of whatever materials were given had been the hardest part of all. Dean's first attempt to create a bikini-clad figurine out of the sidewalk had resulted in Sam smashing it to bits before Izumi could witness what had become of their lessons so far. But it hadn't mattered either way since Dean's "work of art" had ended up looking more or less like a deformed troll rather than a beautiful woman. After a couple more days of trying to make different figurines and transmuting elements into small mundane objects he attempted to make another one. This one had turned out a little less scary-looking, but had ended up on the Teacher Radar and Izumi had snapped at Dean for taking something as complex and sophisticated as alchemy and using it to create something so "vulgar".

Sam remembered biting his tongue during that moment, knowing good and well that Izumi's idea of what was vulgar and Dean's own perspective were as far apart as the East was from the West. He knew his brother could've done much more than a half-naked female if given the chance. But he eventually gave up on it, and settled for attempting to create stone models of his beloved Impala instead, which Sam knew he must be missing like crazy after over two months without it. He'd come close to getting it just right a couple of times, but would always exclaim that it just "didn't do Her justice" and would inevitably smash the transmutation in the end. Sam never said a word about it during those times, but he had mentioned to Alphonse that Dean's attempt to recreate old-life concepts was his way of coping with everything, and that he didn't blame him for wanting to. Sam missed his iPad, his notes, his old clothes, hell he missed the _food_. But living at the Curtis' more than made up for some things because the food here was _excellent_. Sam often wondered if Izumi was attempting to make up for the hardships they endured by providing them with borderline-gourmet meals every day. Dean certainly enjoyed it, and Sam had the feeling that Ed would be the same way once they got back. That is, after he got over his initial fear of facing his teacher again.

"Should we go then?" Alphonse glanced between them, from Sam's tired expression to Ed's anxious one.

Ed sighed heavily, bowing his head, shoulders sagging. "It'd be nice if she wasn't home right now."

"Come on Ed," Sam tried to motivate him. "Just get it over with, it's not _that_ bad."

"You don't understand," Ed didn't lift his head, but rather strained his eyes to gaze up at Sam. "She doesn't know…..that is….we never told her that….."

And then Sam understood, "You never told her about your mother….or what happened to you."

Ed shook his head in response, straightening up to place his hands on his lower back and press into it in an attempt to crack it. "Well it's like you said….let's get it over with already."

When they were not involved in alchemical deeds, the Curtis' were butchers by trade, they even owned their own personal shop in the middle of town. It wasn't difficult to overlook, though it was rather on the small side, the sign out front might as well be neon and flashing. It was at least a three-by-six foot, white with red trim, and the word "Meat" painted respectfully in black as the shop's title. The two windows in the front had red trim and the door was red as well, with a small festive-looking wreath hanging from it and a little sign that dangled just inside it depicting the shop's status as being either "open" or "closed". Their home could be found behind the shop, but where the shop's color coordination was red, the house had green instead. The backyard was small but quaint, with a white picket fence and a short sidewalk. The back of the house and part of the shop created an "L"-shaped architectural setup for the back yard, where two sides were composed of brick walls painted over with white, and the other two sides were picket fence. Beyond that part of the boundary was the street and even further were the neighboring homes.

They had gone to the shop part first and, after running into Sid, had moved on to the backyard of the house, where Sid had leaned into one of the open windows to let Izumi know that they had guests. Sam had become familiar enough with Izumi's habits to know that if Sid was talking to her while she was in her room, it wasn't because she was getting dressed or sitting at her desk reading. That could only mean that she had had another "attack" while he'd been gone, and was now trying to rest. The thing about Izumi, which was also the thing that made her so fascinating, was that regardless of her physical condition she always maintained an aura that she could tough out anything if given the chance. It didn't seem to matter how much pain she could be in or how much blood she lost, she still got up each time and shrugged it off as though it were nothing.

Which scared Sam, both for the sake of her well-being, and the fact that even injured she could still kick his ass.

Ed and Al had understood immediately that Izumi must not be feeling well, their familiarity with her habits evident in the concerned expressions they revealed once it was made known that she was in bed on such a fine day. But it had only been a matter of moments before she'd come bursting through the backdoor of the house and kicking Ed in the face, landing the poor kid flat on his back.

"Hello my stupid pupils!"

And then the official reunion had begun, Izumi calling Edward out on becoming a "dog of the military", right before she through Al over her should and landing _him_ flat on his back. Based on their conversations, Sam understood that Izumi was highly disapproving of Ed's choice of joining the military, her belief being that all military personal were nothing but trained dogs that didn't think for themselves and were trigger-happy at best. He'd become accustomed to the idea that Izumi would express her upset at the Elrics upon their arrival, but he hadn't expected it to be a physical display much less a vocal one. Well…okay so maybe he'd had the tiniest feeling this would happen.

"You've got lots of energy for someone who's not feeling well," Alphonse had pointed out, ignoring the look on Ed's face that clearly stated he shouldn't have said something like that. If there was one thing that Izumi and Ed had in common, it's their ideal method of response when a part of their physical deficiency (in this case health in general) was criticized in any way shape or form. Her reply was explosive to say the least, reminding Sam of Ed's short rants.

"NOT FEELING WELL? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I'M PERFECTLY…!"

But they never found out what she perfectly was because in that moment she spit up a small fountain of blood. Sam had felt his stomach drop at the sight of it, even though he'd become accustomed to seeing her do this once in a while when she exerted herself too much, it wasn't something he enjoyed watching. Ed and Al were set into a panic, both wanting to help but unable to do anything for her. However Sid immediately stepped in, lovingly chastising her for allowing herself to get worked up, the two immediately became enamored with each other, leaving the other three to stand and watch with gaping expressions.

Dean had come rushing outside, one hand on the door-handle and the other holding a sandwich, a look of concern on his face as he sought out Sam, "Is everything okay?"

The younger Winchester shook his head and shrugged. Everything in this world was so topsy-turvy, "okay" was certainly something to strive for, and at the moment "okay" seemed to be the case…ish.


	12. Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

"The Philosopher's Stone? No I don't know much about it," Izumi was currently residing in one of the four chairs in the kitchen where the six of them had gathered to talk over a cup of tea (Dean still eating his sandwich). "It holds no interest for me."

On the way to the shop Al had filled Sam in on the their idea to ask Izumi about what she possibly knew regarding the Stone. Sam had been nervous about it at first, believing it to be dangerous to ask too many people about it knowing that question like that got around and someone on the wrong side could mess things up. But Izumi and Sid were trustworthy if not anything else, and they were close with the Elrics after all. It was possible they knew something about it…..or at least the boys' had believed she did, but now that hope was gone.

"I see, okay," Ed had responded calmly, but Sam could sense his disappointment with her answer.

A hush had fallen over the room for a moment as each of them digested what was said, and then Sid offered a bit of trivia of his own.

"There was that one alchemist. I thought that one man from Central knew a good amount about the Stone."

The Winchesters and Elrics both perked up at that exact moment, Ed choosing to address Sid's comment, "So who was this guy?"

"Let me think," Izumi placed a thoughtful hand to her chin. "What's his name? Ah….Hohenheim."

The moment the name left her lips, Alphonse gasped and Edward's expression degraded from a jovial state to a look you'd sometimes see on a child that's just been told his favorite toy was broken. He'd gone rigid all over, gloved hands clenching into fists, his breath hissing through his teeth.

Izumi frowned at his reaction, but it was out of concern rather than disapproval. "What is it?"

Edward didn't look up to face her, instead he kept his eyes trained to the floor. "Then he's alive."

Dean looked at him sideways, "Someone you know?"

Ed didn't answer, so Al took the moment to explain. "He's our father."

Izumi did a small intake of breath upon hearing that, "The one who ran out on you when you were little?"

Now Ed spoke, and his voice held the same level of rage that Sam remembered from the altercation with Freezer. "Yeah that's the one."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances just then, both fully understanding of the Elric's reaction to the news. It may have been a few years but Sam remembered with clarity all the times he and dad had fought, and even more than that he remembered the countless nights without their father. Sam felt like there was still some parts of his father he had no clue about, simply because so much time with him had been lost over the years. It had made him both angry and hurt that his father had never really been around. After losing him Sam had begun to realize that John's absence, along with the choices he'd made, may have not made sense before but after his death it was like pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. He hoped like hell the Elrics would never have to suffer through losing their only remaining parent to understand him better, but at the moment it appeared that Hohenheim's death was all he could hope for.

"It's all because of that bastard that our mother's dead," Edward went on to say, "...and…..if it wasn't for him…." He left the statement hanging, unable to finish as he became lost in a painful memory.

Alphonse took the moment to steer the conversation away from discussing their mother, Edward obviously not being of a proper state to talk about it without becoming even more upset. "Um…did our dad say anything about the Philosopher's Stone?"

Izumi resumed what Sam was becoming to recognize as her "thinking position" with the one hand on her chin, "Something about a life-long dream coming true. He seemed very happy when he said it." She glanced over at Ed and, frowning upon seeing him still in a state of rigid anger, instantly picked up on Al's attempt to thwart discussing painful topics and planted a fist firmly on the top of Edward's head.

"Now we're going to eat!" she responded with vehemence, ignoring Edward's whiny "Okay!" and chose to direct her disapproving glare at Dean. He'd just swallowed the last of his sandwich and was now looking at her with a sheepish expression, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"I eat a lot," he tried to explain, stuffing his hands in his pockets and sinking against the wall. Sam would've laughed had it not been for the fact that it just didn't seem the right place for it.

They ate their dinner with gusto, Dean maintaining his previous statement by loading up a plate full, though Sam was sure that it was more or less his way of appeasing to Izumi. Alphonse naturally couldn't eat, but the only ones that knew why were not planning on revealing anything of it at the time, so when Sid commented that Al wasn't eating, they allowed the younger Elric to make some excuse that he wasn't hungry. Sam attempted to help him out a bit by changing the subject, so he made the suggestion that the Elrics should tell Izumi and Sid about the birth they'd witnessed in Rush Valley. It was certainly something to watch Ed and Al gush over the event, instantly becoming separated from the hardships of the world…..if only for a few minutes.

The moment the topic had been brought up about the birth, Sid had immediately cast a glance at his wife, searching her expression as though he expected her to chastise the boys or something. But instead she'd sipped calmly at her tea, agreeing with the boys in their opinion on how amazing the incident was and how giving birth was such a blessed thing to behold. Even though she remained pleasantly tranquil with discussing the subject, there was a kind of sadness in her eyes that had Sam wondering briefly if Izumi had ever had a child. She certainly couldn't be expecting one, not with her coughing up blood every now and then.

After dinner they'd each gone to their separate rooms, Dean and Sam choosing to room up in Sam's designated room while the Elrics stayed in Dean's room. Sam knew that Dean would hate having to sleep on the floor, even though it was Sam's room Dean still felt it necessary to rock-paper-scissors to see who got the bed and who was sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Paper beats rock and Sam was settling in his bed while Dean grumbled his way through arranging blankets on the small army-cot-sized mattress.

"What d' you think will happen once she finds out?" Sam attempted to break the silence with the obvious question that had been dangling amongst the four of them since the Elrics' arrival.

"About what? That Ed is the Terminator and that makes Al Iron Man?" Dean punched his pillow a few times to get it just the way he liked it. "I don't know. I'm just glad it's not _me_ that has to tell her. Have you _seen_ the way she fights Sam?" he whistled just then to emphasize his admiration for their teacher's fighting skills.

Sam sighed heavily, placing his hands behind his head as he stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "I wonder how Bobby's doing."

"He'll call us when he finds something."

"I just hate being so distant from so many resources," Sam replied irritably, allow some of his annoyance with their other-worldly situation to seep through.

"Like what your precious iPad?" Dean chuckled and wiggled further into the covers. "I have an idea, why don't you go explain to these people about the Internet, maybe that'll speed things up."

"This isn't funny Dean."

"Damn right it isn't," Dean fired back. "Dude I am just as pissed as you are about this whole situation, I'm just not bottling it up like you do, which isn't good for you by the way. If you want to let out some steam I suggest you apply it to your fighting the next time you have to spar with Dragon Lady."

Sam made a huffing sound, "Either way this is going to take longer than I thought it would."

"And I'm guessing that little resolution has to do with the fact that apparently it takes more than a year to learn the up's and down's of alchemy and oh…let's not forget…..the fucking chemistry exams that go along with it!"

"Keep your voice down!" Sam whispered urgently.

"And here's another thing," Dean went on, his voice gaining an octave, "Let's say we master this alchemy shit and we become somewhat savvy alchemists. How the hell does this stuff help us get back to our own world?"

"It's a start."

"It's bullshit is what it is," Dean snorted. "Dude I didn't leave school just to go looking for it somewhere else. And I sure as hell didn't sign on to learning how to transmute little birdies out of wood, or sitting on our asses when god-only-knows-what is going on back in our world. I feel like a freaking sitting duck here okay Sam?"

"And you think I don't feel the same way? I _hate_ being here Dean but we've got to make due with what we've got or suffer for it."

"The only 'suffering' I've witnessed so far is you collapsing from a mental blow," Dean was getting nasty at this point but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "But hey, since you're fine and all I guess that's nothing to worry about right?"

"I'm handling it," Sam responded firmly, growing weary of the turn the conversation had taken.

"Sure you are," Dean countered. "You honestly don't think I can't hear you mumbling in your sleep every night?"

"Mumbling?"

"Oh yeah Sammy, you're Harry-freaking-Potter in…..what was that movie again?"

"Order of the Phoenix."

Dean shook his head and scoffed, "Yeah you're the dork alright."

"What's your point Dean?"

"My point is I'm sick of you acting like everything's okay when it isn't," Dean admitted in a lecture-ly tone. "I'm also sick of you pretending you're okay when you're obviously not."

Sam huffed at him, "What do you want me to do? I'm _handling it _okay?"

"Then give me something, anything!" Dean retorted in an exasperated fashion. "Just give me a hint of what's going on in that noggin of yours because if you don't and it comes back to bite us in the ass later….how the hell am I supposed to help you Sam? Tell me, how?"

Sam hated this, hated it when Dean tried to "fix" him as if it were that easy, like all those times he'd locked him up in the panic room thinking it would help put a stop to what the demon blood was doing to him. But it hadn't. It had done permanent damage to him, both physically and mentally, and nothing Dean did could ever fix that. Now he was trying to fix Sam's broken mind, but this time he wasn't doing it forcefully, but the firmness of his declarations and the way he spoke of Sam's little predicament felt very similar to Dean's previous methods of "fixing". So much so that Sam was reflexively against being helpful.

"Don't try to help okay?" he tried to say it as calm and peacefully as he could. "It's okay. _I'm_ okay. It's nothing I can't handle."

Dean stared at him hard, as though expecting Sam to instantly retract his bravado and succumb to acting helpless, but eventually he rolled over onto his side facing the wall mumbling something along the lines of "yeah right". But he said no more.

Truth be told, Sam had barely felt any urges to pass out or anything since their alchemy mission had officially begun. So he wasn't really lying in that regard, however he had been having some intense dreams lately, which would explain Dean's comment on his mumbling in his sleep, but he wasn't quite up to dwelling on that just now. After spending a year in the Pit it was only natural that he'd have some nightmares about it, he was only human after all.

The next morning proved to be as equally eventful as the previous afternoon. While Sam and Dean, joined by Sid, were eating breakfast (Dean ignoring Sam and vice versa), there was a small commotion outside. Sam was beginning to wonder if this was to become a common occurrence with the Elrics, not a dull moment to be had. Sam was about to ask Sid what could possibly be going on, but the older man seemed to have sensed his silent question anyway.

"Izumi found out about what happened to the Elrics," he explained in his deep voice, munching on a sausage link.

"You mean she knew about it before they got here?" Dean inquired, a fork full of scrambled eggs half-way to his mouth.

"And apparently you did as well," Sid eyed them both suspiciously, but the calmness in his eyes showed that he wasn't the least bit phased by this bit of news, merely curious as to how they knew about it.

"Yeah Al told us," Sam explained. "We've known about it for some time now."

"Then perhaps you could explain how it happened," Sid suggested almost casually.

"What do you mean?" Dean frowned. "I thought you said you knew already."

"We know that Ed now has two automail limbs and Al's soul is attached to a suit of armor," Sid replied, taking a sip of water. "What we don't know is how things got that way."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, Dean choosing to avoid explaining by stuffing his mouth with sausage, leaving Sam to fill in the blanks…..sort of.

"I'm guessing you'll find out soon enough. I don't think they can continue to keep it from Teacher."

"For a while it seemed we were barren….we wanted a child but couldn't conceive."

The six of them found themselves, once again, back in the kitchen, where Izumi explained how she was able to transmute without a circle. Or at least that's how Sam perceived it, his question about Ed's (and Izumi's) ability to transmute without a matrix finally being answered. From the sound of it, it was a product of attempting Human Transmutation, but from Sam's understanding pulling a stunt like that was more of a cost than a gain. So how was it that committing the ultimate taboo gave you the advantage of transmuting by simply clapping your hands together?

"When we were finally able to conceive, I ended up falling gravely ill," Izumi went on to explain how she came to attempting Human Transmutation. "And our child as well, he was not able to take a living breath in this world. And so…..I committed the taboo. As a result, I lost parts of my inner organs…..What an idiot I was."

Sam had never had a child, nor had he ever thought very long on the idea of what being a father would be like. The kind of pain that Izumi, and ultimately Sid as well, must've suffered over the loss of their one and only child was beyond his comprehension. And to have that pain magnified after losing parts of her body in an attempt to bring that child back, was more terrible than he could ever understand.

Izumi lifted her gaze to focus on the Elrics, her eyes full of a despair that stretched on through years of heartbreak. She absent-mindedly had a hand placed on her stomach, as though she could still feel her child's presence there somehow. "Now I realize I should've told you sooner…It must've been awful."

Ed reached a hand to his metal arm, clenching some of the material in his fist, his expression pained But he immediately masked his hurt with a forced smile, attempting to keep his voice light and casual, "Nah, I did it to myself after all. It hasn't been that big a'deal actually."

"Besides," Al offered pleasantly, the task of masking his own hurt a lot easier when he needn't worry about facial expressions. "I've got this long list of things I get to look forward to eating when I have my body back. Right brother?"

"Yeah!" Ed responded with forced excitement, "it's nothing."

Izumi rose from her chair and crossed the room to place an arm around either Elric. "You darling little idiots," she pulled them into a tight embrace, her voice gentle and soft. "It's okay to hurt."

Sam glanced over to see how Dean's reaction would be, having been standing by the window the whole time. But the older Winchester's eyes were focused on the world just beyond the glass, although Sam could tell the whole conversation had hit him pretty hard. Even though Dean had only been four when their mom had died, he still remembered her and how she took such great care of the two of them. Sam had only been six months old and therefore had no actual memories of her save for what he saw of her when they'd gone back in time a few years ago.

Still though, they were equally hurting because, regardless of their differences in how they remembered her, it was still painful having to remember that she was no longer with them. Regardless that Izumi wasn't their mother by birthright, she'd taken it upon herself to be there for them as a mother could be, watching over them, feeding them, guiding them as best she could.

How nice it would be if Sam and Dean could have that. Just once he wanted to know what it was like to have something like that in your life. That took care of you the way a mother would.

Both Elrics were speechless at Izumi's embrace, but eventually the two of them let their guard down a bit, returning the embrace and having a moment's cry while she held them. They whispered their apologies to her, asking her to forgive them, Sam understanding that their apologies were not for trying to bring their mother back, but rather that they had let Izumi down in doing so. If he hadn't fully understood their respect and loyalty to their teacher, that moment sealed it.

After that things began to simmer down a bit, not much was discussed about Ed and Al's past nor what happened to the Curtis'. They ate their meals together, but resorted to meaningless topics rather than any serious subjects. Two whole days had passed, during which time Izumi had eventually called the Elrics into the kitchen for something (was it always the kitchen?). As it turned out they'd been expelled due to their mistake of attempting Human Transmutation, and Izumi had ordered them to get on the next train out of town. However thanks to a little insight from Sid, who had escorted them to the train station, the boys returned to the house less than an hour later, fully accepting whatever consequences came with attempting a friendship status with Izumi rather than that of a student-teacher. This new relationship began on the most significant question the Elrics needed answers for, and that dealt with finding a way get their bodies back. Which lead to the current discussion at hand, and one Sam had been hoping for since he learned Izumi's story.

"Al, you didn't see the Truth did you?" she asked the younger Elric.

"No, I don't even really know what that means," he answered.

"And I'd sure love to find out," Dean replied, arms folded across his chest as he propped up against the living room wall.

"You must've lost your memory from the shock," Izumi went on addressing Al's answer. "We need to get Al's memory back. His entire body was taken from him….just think what he must've seen."

"Oh yeah," Ed replied, catching onto her meaning. "We only exchanged parts of our bodies for what we saw. But Al paid the toll with his entire physical being, he must've seen more of the Truth than either of us did."

"So….if I can remember what I saw…..than we'll know how to get our bodies back?" Al inquired.

"But the memory of that thing…" Izumi began.

"That thing…." Ed piped in to say, the two of them beginning to act like kids trading scary stories over a campfire.

"What _thing_?" Sam asked, growing tired of playing games.

"What is it something bad?" Al queried, growing nervous.

"No it's more like…_awful_," Izumi gave a crooked smile now that she realized Al was getting scared.

"Yeah…and _horrifying_," Ed added, finding his brother's unease comical.

"_What the hell is it?" _Dean all but snarled, causing the trio to snap out of their momentary little fright-fest.

"It's the Truth," Ed explained, suddenly serious. "At least that's how we know it to be. When Al and I attempted Human Transmutation, we were both taken to this place…it was almost like a void…and it was in that void that I saw it…all the information in the world…..the Truth…all of it pouring into my brain all at once."

"It's what you have to pay for in your arrogance of trying to attempt Human Transmutation, a toll is required for seeing the Truth," Izumi placed a hand on her stomach, just as Ed placed a hand on his metal arm. "It's what took away some of my organs and two of Edward's limbs. It is also the reason why we are able to transmute without a matrix. Once you have witnessed the Truth, in a way you yourself become the matrix. A circle is no longer needed."

"So how is it that you can't think back on the Truth and figure out what you need to know to get your bodies back?" Sam asked Edward.

"Because I didn't get to see all of it. I was only allowed so much." Edward looked up at him with a serious look. "Seeing that much alone was overwhelming enough, any more and I could've been driven mad."

"Just like Al could be driven mad if he were to retrieve his memories of what he saw," Izumi pointed out, once again in her thinking-pose.

"That doesn't matter," Al responded firmly, gloved-hands clenched in fists. "If there's a chance it could help us, then I want to do it."

"It might also help us with our little situation," Dean suggested, exchanging looks with Sam.

"Might I ask, what _is_ your situation?" Izumi glanced at the two of them.

"Um…." Sam began, lost for the right words that wouldn't make them sound crazier than they actually were.

"These two claim to be from some alternate dimension and they crash-landed here," Ed responded casually with a wave of his hand. "They think that learning alchemy may help them get back home."

Izumi merely stared at Ed for a moment, that famous frown once again creasing her forehead. "I see," was her only response in that regard, she quickly re-focused on Al's predicament. "Alright, I have an acquaintance that might know a way to retrieve your memory for you."

The alternate dimension topic was immediately discarded.

"But…" Izumi went on with a smile, "let's eat dinner first. Give me a hand."

"Okay!" both Elrics replied in unison before jumping up to help her.

Neither Sam nor Dean had wanted to make a scene about what Ed had told Izumi, especially since they were technically still living with her, but there was no way they were going to let him get away with just tossing it out like that. Instead they chose to wait until the following day while Izumi and Sid were busy with preparing meat packages for customers and filling out records of how many of each type of meat they had. Al was outside sweeping the walkway, and Ed was supposedly busy reading or something. But when they both went to check his and Al's room he wasn't there.

"You think he's outside?" Sam asked Dean as they both stood staring at the empty bedroom.

"I'd prefer it if he was, I don't want to get blood on the carpet. Teacher will kill us if we do," Dean and Sam turned to walk back down the hallway towards the front door of the shop.

"Look I'm just as pissed as you are that he just blurted that out," Sam reminded him sternly. "But we can't go beating the kid up. Not unless you want Teacher kick our asses in return."

"It'd still be worth it," Dean pointed out, reaching over to open the shop door. They stepped outside to find a clear blue sky, almost cloudless, the sun shining gloriously shining….and no Alphonse.

"They can't be inside, we would've seen them," Sam scanned the streets thinking that maybe Al had taken a walk or something.

"Or he's skipping out of sweeper-duty," Dean strode forward a few feet, bent over and straightened, picking Izumi's broom from sidewalk.

Sam did a slow inhale-exhale, trying not to think of the worst…and failing. "What do you think?"

Dean shook his head, "I'm thinking I'm going to be pissed if _I _end up finishing the job for him." Which pretty much settled it for Sam.

Ed and Al were gone.


	13. If These Walls Could Talk

**A/N: I'm just going to say that I HATE IT that FFN doesn't allow me to use certain techniques to separate these chapters into sections like I want to.**

**Rant over.**

"Now where would a seven-foot-tall suit of armor run off to?"

Ed was standing in the middle of an empty street when he asked that question aloud, at least loud enough that the two meandering hunters managed to hear him and locate him after having scouted the streets looking for the Elrics. It appeared the only truly bustling part of Dublith was in and around the train station, the rest of the town seemed almost…well….deserted in some areas.

After having realized the Elrics were missing, Sam and Dean mutually agreed it was best to run ahead and find them rather than take the time to fill Izumi in on the issue. Initially they'd believed that both boys had gone missing together, but from the looks of Ed it appeared that Al was the one missing and the older Elric was in the same boat as the Winchestrers in searching for him.

"Well that's one down, now where's metal-man?" Dean asked the young alchemist upon their approach. Ed had heard their footsteps from a distance and turned to face them, strangely enough he didn't snap at them to leave things alone and to let him handle it.

Though Sam was still waiting for it to happen.

"I don't know, I went outside and he was gone," Ed replied, eyes scanning up and down the street. He was coat-less for a change, allowing Sam to catch a glimpse of the pocket-watch chained at his right hip. Part of his certification as a State Alchemist from what Sam remembered.

"Same for us," Dean did some glancing of his own. "We thought maybe something had happened to the two of you."

"And you didn't warn Teacher?" Ed clearly wasn't of the mind to rid himself of the habit of calling her that.

"Didn't think we had time," Sam answered. "So where do you think he could be?"

"I'd be happy to tell you where you can find him."

The trio spun around to face a cloaked shady figure standing within the shadows of an alley, his hood raised to hide his face. Sam and Dean pulled their guns ready while Ed kept his hands within clapping distance of each other, ready to transmute a blade out of his arm if necessary.

"But first you tell me what his secret is," the man's voice crackled as he spoke and it was laced with a giddiness that made Sam's skin crawl.

"How about this instead? You tell us where he is," Dean cocked his semi-automatic, "and I'll be sure to leave enough of you behind so that the cops can identify you."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," the slithery voice continued. "You kill me, you lose your brother. I'm the only one who knows where he is."

"So it's like that huh?" Sam smirked, reaching behind him to place a hand on the Transmutation circle he'd drawn on the wall of one of the buildings after they'd found Ed. He was getting quite good at drawing them while in a hurry, it was almost second-nature. The wall erupted into an explosion of blue light that traveled to the ground, the stone pieces coming apart as the force shot straight for the creepy figure. One large piece shot up and backward, flinging him into the air only to land at Edward's feet.

"Not bad," the young alchemist praised Sam's quick-thinking just before he slammed his metal fist into the stranger's face. The force of the blow was enough to knock his hood off, revealing a large and bulbous head with sickly-green skin and a long nose. Dean raised a foot to knock him flat on his back and plant his boot right at the mans neck, keeping his gun trained on the stranger's face.

"You want to start talking or should I let these two have some more fun with you?" Dean replied cynically, a sly grin on his rugged face.

"You…._fuckers_…." was all the strange man managed to hiss out, Dean's boot was beginning to cut off his airway.

"Well that wasn't very nice," Dean raised his foot and let it drop directly into the man's stomach, causing him to double over in pain.

"Where's my brother?" Ed queried, managing to keep his voice even regardless that he was clearly pissed off.

The man was busy coughing after having Dean's boot on his neck, so he didn't answer right away. But when he did, it was to pitifully attempt bravado once again despite his outnumbered state, "You can't defeat me…..you need me after all….."

"Well now you're just being difficult," Dean reached down to pick him up by the front of his clothes, dragging him to somewhat of a standing position. He held him slightly away from himself as though offering him to the other two, "You want to do the honors Elric?"

"I think Sam deserves a shot this time," Ed replied with a smirk. "After all he is the one that took him down in the first place." The young Alchemist and older Winchester glanced pointedly at Sam.

"My pleasure," he replied, pulling his fist back and letting it fly into the man's solar-plexus. He nearly doubled over again but Dean's grip on his clothes kept him from doing so.

"Are you going to talk now?" Ed queried, using his metal hand to crack the knuckles of his left fist.

"D-Devil's….N-Nest…" the stranger finally croaked, heaving from all the blows he'd taken.

Dean flashed a million-dollar smile at that, "See? That wasn't so hard now was it?"

The Devil's Nest turned out to be an old bar that was located in a back-alley, the front door stationed at the bottom of a small set of stairs so that the bar itself was positioned below ground level. The trio, now accompanied by their new informative creepy companion ( being dragged by Sam and Dean), had burst into the Nest with guns at the ready. Not a single soul was to be found at the bar itself, but a set of stairs leading to the basement, and what was seemingly the source of the voices the three heard, was their next best bet. Dean had bashed creeper-guy in the back of the head with his gun to knock him out, not wanting the son of a bitch to squawk about their presence prematurely. However making an entrance while carrying this kind of baggage proved to be a problem, so the boys (with Edward's full blessing) decided that using creeper-guy as a form of entry would work perfectly. So naturally upon finding the door that lead to the supposed room where the voices could be found, the Winchesters launched their temporary prisoner right at it, knocking it open, and he landed in a heap on the floor groaning with pain.

The three of them stepped inside the room, Edward flanked on both sides by an armed Winchester, looking beyond pissed to find Al chained up in the middle of a room full of what appeared to be creeper-guy's friends, one of them tall and built that carried a large hammer, another that was shorter with slicked-back hair and a katana, and two more standing back a ways as though awaiting orders. It was the one closest to Al that had caught Sam's attention, with his spiked hair and biker's outfit, but more intriguing was the marking on his left hand. It appeared to be some kind of red tattoo of a winged snake eating its own tail with two overlapping triangles in the middle.

An Ouroboros.

"Brother!" Alphonse exclaimed, sitting Indian-style on the floor, hands and feet bound together in chains.

"Never really crossed my mind that you could get kidnapped," was Ed's form of response at finding his brother in this position.

"Brother! This guy's a Homunculus!" Al warned Ed, nodding his head towards the man directly in front of him.

Sam had vaguely heard that term before, in passing when he was doing research for other cases. From what he remembered of it, a Homunculus was an artificially created dwarf, supposedly made in a flask by an alchemist. However that was just a theory, Homunculi in general were only a theory. At least they were supposed to be. But not so much in this world.

"Are you serious?" Ed replied to Al's statement, clearly surprised but not overwhelmed by the news.

"I didn't think those things could exist," Dean commented, he was surprised too.

"After all that stuff you told me about and you think _this_ is impossible?" Ed retorted.

"There's multiple levels of crazy kid," Dean shot back. "This is just a new one for us."

"Hey, way to ruin it," the Homunculus in question replied stiffly to Al's accusation, seemingly ignoring the small exchange of snarky banter between Ed and Dean.

"We might be able to get some leads from him on how to get our original bodies back," Al ignored the Homunculus' comment to point out that little fact to his brother.

"You seriously think you can trust whatever he tells you?" Sam reminded him cautiously. "He did kidnap you after all."

The Homunculus appeared to be unaffected by Sam's words, grinning maliciously and raising his left hand to display the marking as though he were brandishing a trophy he was proud of.

"An Ouroboros tattoo," Ed commented on the marking, so he was familiar with it as well.

"Aren't you observant," the Homunculus replied, clearly amused with the whole situation. "I was hoping I'd only have to deal with the little armored giant."

"Why don't you just ask your partners whatever you want to know," Ed told him.

Based on what Al had told him, the Elrics had recently fought against other Homunculi at the Fifth Laboratory, or more specifically Ed had fought them while Al had been preoccupied with one of their minions that had been very similar to the younger Elric. In that he himself had been a soul bound to a suit of armor, and apparently wasn't alone in that regard, one of his buddies having been inside the lab at the time fighting Ed just before the Homunculi arrived.

It still blew Sam's mind that they even existed.

"Partners?" the Homunculus asked him, confused by Ed's words.

"Yeah," Ed answered him. "The rest of the Ouroboros gang from the Fifth Lab. They had a couple of armor-bonded souls with them as well."

"You don't say?" the Homunculus appeared intrigued by this bit of news. "Well it's kind of a long story….but we don't talk much anymore…..I've got a little proposal for you, you guys are pretty desperate to get your bodies back right? Because I could teach you how to fabricate your own Homunculus in no time at all….In return all I ask is that you teach me how to transmute a soul. Classic Equivalent Exchange."

Ed was silent during this little speech, the weight of the Homunculus' words kept even the Winchesters speechless.

"But I really don't understand why you would want your other body back," the Homunculus went on to say. "Seems like you've got one that's perfect already."

"No I don't!" Al yelled back, the Homunculus had definitely struck a nerve.

"You're joking right?" the monster continued. "You don't need to eat, you don't need to sleep, you don't even need to use the toilet. Sounds _great_ to me."

"That's enough," Ed interrupted him, his voice cracking to reveal the pure rage he felt. "Shut your _damned mouth_."

All heads turned to face Edward, even Sam and Dean couldn't help but cast a sideways glance at the young alchemist. The vehement fury with which he spoke was startling, it even made a shiver go up Sam's spine.

"SOUNDS GREAT TO YOU? EASY? PERFECT? YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE HELL HE'S HAD TO GO THROUGH STUCK WITH THAT BODY! And you want to know how to transmute a soul? YOU KIDNAPPED MY BROTHER AND YOU WANT TO TRADE SECRETS WITH ME? I'M GONNA CRUSH YOUR BRAINS! I'LL SMASH YOU! END YOU! AND I WONT GIVE YOU SLIME ANYTHING! In other words, there wont be an exchange with you SCUM!"

The force behind that passionate little speech was powerful to say the least, everyone visibly stunned by Edward's volume. But the moment was over, and the Homunculus was not the least bit phased by Ed's words. On the contrary he appeared bored with the whole spectacle, giving a slow clap to go along with his bored expression.

"I guess we're doing this by force again," the minion with the slicked-back hair reached for his katana, stepping forward as he slid the blade free.

"Don't kill him alright?" the Homunculus reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah," the minion agreed, advancing on Ed.

"You're a lot smaller than a prisoner I know," Ed jumped into the air, spun around, and knocked the minion flat on his back. He immediately transmuted his arm into a blade, glaring at them all challengingly.

"Next."

"Roa," the Homunculus addressed his largest man. "Get the armored kid out of here. Guess we'll dismantle him."

"Right," the minion, Roa, grabbed Al and hoisted him onto his shoulder.

"Hey hold on!" Al exclaimed just as Ed charged at them yelling "Drop him!"

The Homunculus took that moment to engage Edward in battle, fists flying, Edward's sword slashing through the air. It was quite something to behold, the fact that no matter how many blows either of them took, they still kept going.

The minions took this opportunity of momentary distraction to try and escape, finding only Dean and Sam in their way, but katana-man and the big guy made quick work of the two of them. The man with the sword made a slash at Sam, the tip of the blade cutting into his shirt and leaving a mark across his chest. The mad carrying Al slammed his knee into Dean's midsection, then a fist into his face, knocking him backward where he slammed against the wall and slid to the floor. From his lack of movement Sam guessed he was out cold, but he didn't have time to dwell on that fact, he barely moved out of the way before the katana was on him again. Ducking low he managed to dodge the tip of the blade, but not the fist that came flying for his solar-plexus. Sam dropped to his knees, hand pressed to the wound on his chest, blood seeping through his shirt and dripping onto the floor. Another minion slammed a fist into the side of his face, knocking him all the way to the floor. None of them waited to see if he would try to get up again, instead they chose to make a run for it, Al still on Roa's shoulder.

Today just wasn't their day it seemed.

He didn't dare attempt to move around too much, he was already losing enough blood, his vision was still clear though he had to wonder how much longer before it became blurred with dizziness.

Ed and the Homunculus were still locked in battle, Ed having used alchemy to attempt to gain the upper hand on one or two occasions, but nevertheless the Homunculus was still standing. His hands had turned completely black, the nails like pointy claws. Every time Ed made a swipe at him with his blade, the Homunculus would simply use his bare hands to knock the blade around, without getting a single scratch in return. At one point Ed pounced onto the mans shoulders, wrapping his legs around his neck, twisting around so that the spinal column snapped. Blood spurted out from the force of the move, and the Homunculus went down on his back.

Sam felt the first fuzzy sensation in his head.

_Remember me?_

"Guard your head next time," Ed said triumphantly, but his victory was short-lived.

_Tug_

There was a blurriness around the edges of his vision.

_You havent forgotten me have you Sammy?_

"Edward…."

The Homunculus slashed out at Ed, creating a deep gash in his side with his long nails. Ed stumbled back, hand pressed against the wound as the Homunculus sat up, cracking his neck.

The two of them began swimming in and out of focus.

_Tug_

"Aw that hurt," he replied casually, as though he dealt with issues like this on a daily basis. "That move would've hospitalized most people."

_I'm hurt Sammy…I thought we were friends_…..

It was getting cold.

_Tug. Tug._

"But you're not like most people huh?" Ed replied cynically.

The world was tossing and turning.

The floor was strangely comforting now.

_What's the matter Sam?…..Not feeling too good are we?…_.

"Well my body is," the Homunculus answered him.

It was getting darker.

"All that sets me apart are my Ultimate Shield and my advanced healing powers. Nothing special, but you're never gonna beat me so I'd suggest making a deal."

_Sleepy-time she comes Sammy_….

"…..Ed…."

Then everything went black.

"He couldn't have passed out from the wounds," a deep voice muttered from the open doorway, calm and accusing. "This is something else."

He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, nor did he know where he was, but from what he could make of the voices just beyond earshot he had to be back at the Curtis' place. Everything was so hazy and every sound came in and out of clarity, becoming muffled then clear and back again. He was having the strangest sense of déjà vu, recognizing the softness of blankets and a pillow, the comfort of a mattress supporting his frame. The only difference was the light he could sense through his eyelids, there was barely a glow to be witnessed, which led him to believe it must but either nighttime or close enough.

"No it's not the wounds….it's….I can't tell you."

This voice he could recognize anywhere, no matter the circumstances. It was the same deep and husky voice that had influenced his world as far back as he could remember. From the moment his toddler mind could comprehend it to the day his adult self could fully appreciate it, he'd always felt that voice's owner to be the greatest teacher in his life. Regardless that on many occasions he and its owner didn't see eye-to-eye.

"Well it appears we have another fallen comrade to whom I feel obligated to express my gratitude."

_That_ voice, announcing a third member to the party, sent a chill up his spine.

"How's he doing? His wounds were not too great I hope."

"No it's nothing like that," the life-long familiar voice was an odd mixture with the voice of the one he felt wasn't quite right.

"Well then, I hope you wont mind my seeing to it that he gets all the protection he needs….and for you as well."

"Meaning what?" The familiar voice became instantly suspicious.

_Sammy…_

"You and your brother are prodigies that would be of great use in the military. The way you protected Edward Elric, giving your full support and protection no questions asked. You have the markings of one who could move up in the ranks if given the chance. You and Sam."

_Oh Sammy…_

"I don't think so," the familiar voice was now calm but with a latent tone of annoyance. "Considering the fact that we got our asses handed to us I don't think we'll be of much use to you…..sir."

"If you say so," the less trustworthy voice replied, seemingly content with this decision. "I suppose we should give him some more time to rest. He'll wake up when he's ready."

_Is it naptime again Sam?_

"Right."

Later, he wasn't sure how much later, he came to again to find he was alone.

Or at least he'd thought he was.

"Hello Sam Winchester."

Sam sat up with a jolt, suffering momentary dizziness from the sudden movement, eyes squinting in the dimly-lit room to focus on the one and only King Bradley perched on a chair next to his bed. Sam was back in his designated bedroom at the Curtis', still in the clothes he'd worn earlier save for his shoes and jacket. This was an odd situation to say the least, the last time Sam had even seen the Fuhrer was back in the hospital when he'd paid him a visit at his bedside. That previous sensation of déjà vu became even more significant once he realized this appeared to be a pattern in the making for the Fuhrer and himself.

"Feeling any better son?"

Well the annoying voice in his head had skipped out for the time being it seemed, and it was strange to have someone that wasn't his father (or close enough) call him "son", but other than that….

"Uh yeah….I'm okay."

The Fuhrer's mustache bent into a curved "M"-shape as he smiled, "Well that's good to hear. I've got to tell you Sam it was a bit surprising to find you and your brother with the Elrics again. It appears the four of you have teamed up."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to that, once again sensing that something demonic about Bradley, but he kept silent. After all this was the second time he'd met the man, it would be rather ridiculous to attempt anything with him. Besides what was there to prove? The military didn't build a case based on a person's gut-feeling, and Sam doubted that Edward would believe him.

"Sam I must ask you something important, and you should know that plotting against the military results in dire consequences." Bradley had traded his usual charmingly cheerful tone for his more serious one, the kind you would actually expect of a ruler of a large country like Amestris.

"Uh….sure. Anything." Sam felt tiny all of a sudden, like a child on the brink of a scolding after their parent caught them doing something they shouldn't.

"Have you had any previous encounters with the suspect named Greed?"

"Greed?" The name didn't ring a bell….or…..wait…

"The Homunculus that fought Edward Elric. Have you ever encountered him before?"

So the thing's name was Greed? Cute.

"Uh no…..no, not that I remember."

"Let me rephrase that: Have you or have you not made any deals or negotiations of any kind with the Homunculus named Greed?….If so…I'll have you executed right here and now."

There had been many occasions where Sam's life had been openly threatened, some of which the threats were verbalized prior to the actual attack. But not a single one of those times had Sam ever truly felt the full weight of the words. Until now. The way Bradley said them, and the intensity of his gaze, all cold and focused, was enough to make him feel instantly cold inside.

"No. Never."

Bradley continued to eye him suspiciously, "eye" being the key term considering the patch he wore, but it only lasted a few more seconds. He immediately slipped back into his charming persona and stood up, laying a hand on Sam's shoulder with what Bradley must believe was a reassuring smile.

"You take it easy son."

With that he clasped his hands behind his back as he'd done the first time and walked briskly out of the room, Sam finally realizing that the door had been open the entire time….with Dean standing just behind it, having just walked up.

Once the Fuhrer was out of earshot, Dean walked into the room and quickly shut the door behind him, the fingers of his right hand wrapped around what appeared to be a cup of something hot to drink. When he brought it over to Sam, who took it almost greedily not realizing just how parched he'd been, he noticed that it was tea. Sam had never been much of a tea-drinker, but it was better than nothing at the moment, and it tasted pretty good. He set the empty cup on the nightstand by the bed, rubbing a hand across his chest, having just realized that he'd received a patch-job for the cut across his chest. It didn't hurt much, just a little sting really, but it sure left a long and wide red stain on his shirt

Fumbling with the covers, he mindlessly tucked them around his waist. "So…..what happened?"

"What _didn't _happen?" was Dean's initial response, pulling the chair recently occupied by Bradley closer to the bed and allowing himself to fall into it sans grace and dangle one arm over the back. "It was a mess I'll tell you that much. Al's pretty well freaked out, and Ed and Izumi were knocked around a bit."

"Izumi was there?" Sam hadn't thought about the possibility of her showing up during the fight.

"Oh yeah she was," Dean answered him, seeming on the verge of propping his feet up on the bed then deciding against it. "I came to just as she was kicking Greed's ass….but she pretty much coughed up a lung and the bastard got away."

Sam felt immediately concerned for their Teacher, "Is she okay?"

"You know her, she's tough as nails," Dean grinned. "It'll take much more than that to take her down."

"What about Al? And all those minions?"

"Dead. Well the minions are dead, and Greed is too from what I heard, Bradley took him down. Not bad for an old man." Dean's admiration for the Fuhrer's skills was evident in the boyish giddiness of his tone. "And it wasn't just him, he had a small army with him, including that big guy we saw back in Central, the major guy with the fists you know?"

Sam nodded, remembering the Hulk-like man from two months ago that had helped to take down Freezer. "And Al?" He didn't want to dwell on the Fuhrer just now.

"One of the minions was sort of using him like a puppet and well….Bradley shanked her….while she was still inside….the kid's pretty well torn up." There was something in Dean's voice that sounded a bit concerned, and even the tiniest bit protective.

Sam didn't doubt that Ed was playing his protective big brother role right this very minute, and considering what Dean had just told him, the poor kid had been through quite an ordeal. Having his brother there for support was what he would be needing the most at a time like this, because that's what Sam would've wanted. To have his big brother there as a subliminal reminder that he would be okay, that he was taken care of.

"We're going to have to talk about this sooner or later Sam, might as well do it now while no one's pestering us." Dean was now deathly serious, looking directly at his brother.

"It's fine Dean," Sam wasn't in the mood for this right now. He'd already figured out that his wound had not been the majority of the reason why he'd blacked out. Nor was the fist he'd had slammed into the side of his face. He'd taken hundreds of shots before, not a single one of them had knocked him out quite so easily.

Dean continued to stare at him intently for a moment or two, as though expecting Sam to change his mind. Either he was tired of asking, or he believed him this time (which Sam doubted), but nonetheless he still stood up sighed heavily muttering "whatever" just as Ed stuck his head into the room.

"Hey Sam, everything okay?" His head was bandaged and his hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, which for some reason felt a bit strange for Sam. It seemed so out of place.

"Yeah I'm fine, just got knocked out," he didn't feel like attempting to explain anything of his mental status to Ed right now, who still didn't believe their alternate-universe story. Adding his lack of (total) mental health to the pile would only make matters worse.

"That's good. Well if you two are done I think you should come and visit Al…he remembers now."

It took the hunters about a minute to pick up on what Ed was referring to, but Sam got there first. "His memories about the Truth? What did he say? Did he see anything significant?"

"Whoa hold your horses," Ed held up both hands. "He won't say anything until the two of you are present…..don't ask me why…he wouldn't say."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks, but the gesture was unnecessary given the fact that neither of them would skip out on something like this. Sam threw back the covers, following Ed and Dean as they went to a side-door that that led outside to a small alleyway, where Al sat sans his breastplate. The piece in question was currently on the ground next to a bucket of water with a towel hanging over the side. Ed must've been cleaning Al's armor, which had been coated in the blood of the minion he'd had inside of him.

"Al?" Sam broke the moment of silence to cautiously approach him. The other two filed past him, Ed moving to stand next to the bucket.

Al's head had been hanging when they first saw him, but he lifted his face to look at Sam upon hearing the younger Winchester's voice. "Hey Sam….Dean…..thanks for coming."

"Thanks for the invite," Dean offered as politely as was possible of someone with his typical brand of cynical humor. Though he did appear thankful, albeit somewhat bemused, that Al would want to include them on this.

Al didn't appear the least bit offended by the comment, in fact he seemed to understand that this was just how Dean was. Given the way Ed responded to certain comments, Sam wasn't surprised by this at all. "So….do you want to hear?"

Sam could tell this was a huge deal for him, and why shouldn't it be? From what he'd learned of it the Truth wasn't some comic book you flipped through for fun. It was serious business.

"You don't have to tell us everything Al," he reassured him calmly. "Just tell us what you can."

"It's not that I cant…..or don't want to…..I'm just…I just feel tired is all," Al replied softly.

"Alphonse….." Ed began, but Al calmly cut him off.

"It's okay brother," Al told him, "it's just been a long day that's all."

Ed was about to say something in response, but he quickly closed his mouth, choosing instead to resume his previous chore of wiping Al's breastplate clean with the wet towel.

"Well I think it would be easier for you to understand…," Al went on to explain, "…if I tell you exactly what it's like…."

_He knew the moment he'd been taken, but not of anything beyond that._

_He was here…_._ He was there._

_He was nowhere._

_There was a door to enter in._

_And a door to leave through._

_He found himself in a place that existed._

_But wasn't real._

_It was like a void._

_It was Heaven._

_It was Hell._

_It was none of those things._

_But it was something._

_He felt as though he were in a kind of dream._

_A dream where you felt that you knew what was happening._

_And where you were._

_And who surrounded you._

_But this place felt so alien._

_So…empty._

_And yet so _full_._

_And there was the presence._

_Hers._

_He reached for her…..she reached for him._

_He came closer…so did she._

_She grabbed his wrist…she wasn't herself._

_She was him._

_His body was falling to pieces…stripping away bit by bit._

_It didn't hurt._

_Not really._

_But it was so strange._

_The him that he'd thought was her took the pieces._

_And put them on himself._

_Now he was him._

_And him was he._

_He was Alphonse._

_And he wasn't Alphonse._

_Who was he?_

_He'd seen the flicker of images like film…heard the endless string of whispered voices._

_They didn't have the answer he was looking for._

_Who was he?_

_His brain hurt….there was too much._

_Too much._

_It hurt._

_He wanted it to stop._

_And then it did stop._

_And he was her._

_But she was gone._

_And _It_ was there._

_But it wasn't alive._

_Only he was._

_And then he was gone again._

_And back again._

_He came back to the voice._

_Ed's voice._

_But something was wrong._

_Terribly wrong._

_He glanced down at himself._

_And his metallic body._

"What did you see?" Ed finally asked after Al finished explaining what it had been like to have his body taken.

"Well…..it was definitely weird," Al replied, unintentionally confirming Ed and Izumi's previous statements of how strange and overwhelming the experience could be. "But unfortunately, I didn't find out anything on how to get our bodies back."

"That's okay," Ed reassured him, wringing the towel out and tossing it into the bucket before reaching out to hand Al his breastplate, which he quickly reattached to himself. If Sam didn't know better, he'd say that Al was feeling a bit better now that he had all of his pieces back where they should be. He imagined that Al must feel the tiniest bit vulnerable when he wasn't entirely "together".

Although despite this small reassurance, his voice still carried a sense of defeat when he said, "Well I guess we haven't made any progress."

"Don't say that man," Dean politely scolded him

"He's right," Ed agreed, much to the hunter's surprise. "It's not entirely true. Remember what the Fuhrer told us back in Central? About the unrest amongst the ranks of the military?"

"Mhmm," Al agreed. "And it all had something to do with the Philosopher's Stone and those Ouroboros guys. He said he was trying to gather info on them."

Ed appeared lost in thought as he pondered the facts, "Well Greed was obviously connected to them somehow. But if so…..why'd the Fuhrer slaughter everyone? If he was trying to figure out what they were up to….why didn't he catch them and make them talk?"

"Not only that," Sam piped in, "but why come down here himself to take care of it? I mean yeah he helped out with the Freezer guy but that was a blatant issue of national security. This particular situation was on a small scale, why not just let his troops handle it?"

"Not to mention he seemed pretty eager to kill off anyone that has to do with whatever's going on here," Dean added his two-cents in, "and from my experience they usually do that to shut you up, not let you talk. Somebody's hiding something, I'll swear on my damn car."

"No matter how you look at it, none of this adds up," Ed replied, reaching down to pick up the bucket with his flesh hand. He turned to face the other three with a serious look, "We've been warned. We need to get closer."

"Right," Dean agreed. "But if this is military-related it might be a good idea to start with the source first."

Al glanced at him sideways, "You mean Central?"

Dean nodded, "The very one. I can call Bobby and ask him to keep an eye out for anything suspicious while he's there."

"Good. That'll give us some advantage at least," Ed replied with a grin. Sam had the feeling this as close to a "thank you" as Dean was going to get…..for now.

During that moment Sid stuck his head out of the doorway and looked pointedly at the Winchesters. "Phone call boys. It's your friend from Central."

"Wow, uncanny," was Dean's form of response as he moved swiftly past Al and back into the house. Sam and the Elrics immediately followed, although Sam was sure that Ed and Al were more than likely going off to be by themselves for a while to talk. They needed a moment to coordinate and do whatever the hell they had planned.

Sam followed his brother into the shop, where the phone was located on the counter near the register. The receiver was lying off the phone-hook, awaiting them to answer the call. Dean designated himself to answering, but he held it out just enough so Sam could hear him as well. Lack of cell phones in this place meant no Speaker option to choose when they both needed to listen in on a call.

"Hey Bobby," Dean responded cheerfully, announcing his presence at the phone. "Find anything?"

"Nice to hear from you too Dean," Bobby's issue with their lack of traditional hospitality on certain levels clearly evident in his snarky tone. "But yeah I did manage to find something in the Central Library."

"The Library?" Sam queried, frowning. "I thought you needed clearance to access the Library. How'd you pull that off?"

"Son you don't get to be my age without learning a few tricks," Bobby pointed out, sounding prideful.

"What'd you find out?" Dean interceded, clearly wanting to get to the point of the call.

They could hear Bobby's chuckle on the other end of the line, "You're not going to believe this…."

Somewhere in the bowels of Central, deep beneath the Command Center, where a labyrinth of hallways lined with pipes of various sizes lead in many directions, at the heart of it all was their "home". The pipes themselves snaked along almost every wall and ceiling, all of them coming together in this place called "home", where they connected to a single spot in the middle of a large room. "Large" didn't quite do it justice, the ceiling itself stretched higher than that of any sanctuary known to man, a gaping hole allowed for the bright light that lit up against the vast darkness near the walls. At the very center of this steady beam of light was a large stone chair, with every table-like surface around it cluttered with books and flasks and what appeared to be a series of glass tubes connected together in such a manner they resembled what you might find in a professional laboratory.

Just beyond this small section of the room gathered a team of Ouroboros-clad individuals, all of whom wore dark outfits save for one that sported a military uniform. His dark hair was slicked back and perfectly groomed, his uniform was spotless and well-pressed, a sword-sheath strapped to his side while the actual weapon was clasped in his hands, the blade pressing into the stone floor acting as a cane of sorts. He had a mustache, one exposed eye was closed while the other was covered by an eye-patch. He appeared to be either lost in thought or sleeping as he stood.

"Welcome back Fuhrer," the one known as Lust purred seductively to the uniformed character. "How was your inspection of the south?"

"To say the least, it was a very productive visit," the Fuhrer replied in an almost stoic manner. "It seems both Fullmetal's younger brother and their teacher are worthy candidates for human sacrifice. Oh and one other thing…..I made an unexpected catch." He tilted his head slightly upward to indicate just behind him, where the Homunculus Greed dangled, chained to a large stone shard, Bradley's four swords pinning him to the rock as well. Random spurts of red light flickered here and there as his body attempted to regenerate itself, but it didn't appear to be of much help

"Talk about a blast from the past," Lust replied in a slithery voice. "It's been a century since I've seen that face. Rise and shine Greed, you can't sleep all day."

Greed opened his eyes, having been drifting in and out of consciousness for some time. "Well, well the gang's all here."

"Looks like your Ultimate Shield let you down after all," Lust commented, sounding disappointed.

"Maybe, but _you_ never do Lust the Lascivious," Greed replied…..well…..greedily. "Feel free to piece me with your Ultimate Spear any time you want." He turned his purple eyes to gaze upon the fat one, "Hello Gluttony the Voracious. Still haven't found the right diet for you yet huh?" He then focused his eyes on the Homunculus with the hair that dangled in long tendrils, "And little Envy the Jealous, please for the last time get a new outfit." He glanced around a again, searching for someone else, "And where is Sloth the Indolent these days?"

"I'm sure he'd love to be here slacking off," Lust answered in her own seductively flippant way. "But we have to keep him working."

Greed flashed a sly grin, "Sorry to say it, but it's kind of depressing that none of you have changed in the past one-hundred years." He glanced down at the Fuhrer, "So….who's the new edition?"

Bradley didn't even glance in his direction to answer coldly, "I am Wrath the Furious."

"Fuhrer King Bradley and Wrath, one and the same," Greed commented, seeming to find the concept amusing.

"Indeed," Lust replied. "The humans know him as the leader of Amestris. But the truth is he was created by Father for the final stage of the plan."

"A Homunculus that can grow older?" Greed seemed almost baffled by this. "That's impossible."

Envy gave a sudden burst of laughter upon hearing this, "Oh really? I thought nothing was impossible! You used to toss that one around like it was your catch phrase. You change your mind or something?"

Greed gave a sly grin, "Shut your worthless trap ugly."

Envy's eyes widened and a deep furrow creased his brow as he bared his teeth at Greed, clearly not in appreciation of the insult.

"Uh-oh, that's a scary face," Greed replied tauntingly. "Go on and let it out. Why don't you show us what you _really_ look like? You hideous _freak_."

"You _scum_!" Envy snarled, ribbons of red light began flickering across his back. "Call me that again and I _will_ destroy you!"

"Stop your nonsense, both of you," came a voice from the center of the room where the large chair and various flasks were.

Greed gasped upon hearing that voice, while the others simply shifted their attention to it. Perched in the large chair sat a man, his hair was purely white, as was his beard and mustache. He wore white robes, and was quite large. His voice was deep, and carried cool and clear across the room when he spoke. His voice was like the Fuhrer's, but where the Fuhrer's spoke of authority, the white-haired man's spoke of an old-soul that had experienced plenty of the world and lived to tell the tale.

"It's time you resolved this sibling rivalry, your Father does not wish to see such ugly behavior."

Greed chuckled, "Hey pops, long time. I know it's been a hundred years and all but you sure do look decrepit."

Father closed the book he was reading, alchemy-related judging by the symbols, and set it aside. "Greed, you are both my son and a piece of my soul. So why would you betray your loving Father?"

"I'm surprised you asked," Greed obviously thought this to be nothing more than some type of game they were playing. "I mean you know that answer better than anyone dad. I'm Greed the Avaricious. You were the one that made me this way after all, I'm just being myself. I simply had larger ambitions than spending my life working for _you_."

If Father was affected by these words, he didn't show it. He remained more stoic than even Bradley was capable of, "And if I were to ask you to return and work for me again?"

"Hmm," Greed appeared briefly thoughtful. "_Never_."

Still stoic, Father simply replied with, "As you wish."

At that moment gears began to whir and turn. A large hole opened up in the stone floor below where Greed dangled, releasing thick pulsing streams of hot air. A large cylindrical metallic container began rising from this hole, attached to which were various tubes that connected to some of the pipes running along the floor that ultimately connected to the center of the room where Father was seated. Inside the container itself was a hot bubbling substance that wasn't quite the same as lava but certainly had the same appeal. Steam rose off of the surface of the liquid in rolling waves, the heat radiating from it would've been unbearable for most humans, but the Homunculi appeared unaffected by the heat waves. In fact they didn't seem at all concerned about Greed's fate, not even when he was on the verge of death in the pit of liquid-fire.

"Geez, talk about cheesy," regardless that he was to meet his end, Greed still maintained his sense of humor. Even when he was lowered down and his feet splashed into the hot liquid, making him howl in pain, he managed to laugh at the situation, quite maniacally.

"Why don't you come on in kids? THE WATER'S FINE! Nice and hot! Just like the flames in Hell! I'll send you a postcard, let you know what they're like!"

He dropped further and further, the liquid now up to his waist.

"And when the rest of you get there, I'LL BE WAITING FOR YOU!"

Father reached out his hand in Greed's direction, "Now return from whence you were born. Return to my depths and rejoin my soul. Return Greed!"

"If that's what you want dad!" Greed continued to laugh, his eyes glowing bright red. "Just don't blame me when I give you a stomachache! YOU DID IT TO YOURSELF!"

He continued laughing even as he sank fully into the hot liquid, flickering streams of red light shooting out all around him. There was a suctioning sound as part of the hot liquid was being pulled into the various tubes connected to the container. The substance traveled through the tubes and eventually into a large flask holding a clear liquid, the substance turning that liquid into a crimson color. Finally it continued on, dripping into a wineglass of which Father picked up and held it out to his Homunculi children.

"I propose a toast my children. I shall drink to the Promise Day, and to your undying loyalty," his eyes glowed red as he tilted his head back and emptied the contents of the glass into his mouth.

"You can't be _serious_," Dean exclaimed softly, lost for words. "How is that possible?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Bobby replied, equally as lost. "But it's been staring us right in the face this whole time. We just never realized it. Had to rely on memory alone considering our lack of a hunter's reference section."

"How could we not notice this?" Sam asked, baffled. "I mean we've been seeing this stuff for how long now?"

"I'm thinking these are different than what we're used to," Bobby pointed out. "In fact I wouldn't rely on my opinion that that's even what they are. I just said they _look_ like they're the same thing."

"Still though," Dean seemed to think for a moment. "I kept wondering why some of those Transmutation circles looked so damned familiar…or at least partly. This is more fucked up than we imagined."

"What should we do?" Sam inquired, trying to think of the next best step.

"I'll keep digging here, see what else I can find," Bobby reassured him. "You two just keep doing what you're doing."

"Sure thing," Dean agreed. "Oh and Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"You mind keeping an eye out on Central Command?" Dean suddenly seemed as though he hated to ask, but Bobby was their only lifeline at the moment. "Can't go into detail right now, but something doesn't smell right with that place, particularly the military."

"I'll see what I can do, you two just keep your noses clean alright?" And then he hung up.

"Unbelievable," Dean replied, Sam knowing he was referring to the information they'd just received rather than Bobby's method of ending a call.

"I know right?" Sam shook his head, his mind racing. "It just doesn't add up."

"Nothing has added up to much of anything since we got here," Dean reminded him, rolling his eyes.

Because the reason why Sam had thought the Flamel on Edward's coat was familiar…The reason why every time he'd ever glanced over an alchemy book and felt the strangest sense of déjà vu…..

Some of the symbols used in the Transmutation circles….were Enochian.


	14. Kickstart My Heart

**A/N: So hopefully you've all seen my previous rants about the sectioning issue. In order to attempt to create sections, and not have FFN screw me over once again, I'm attempting a new method. When you see this: **_****NS** **_**….it stands for "New Scene". I'll be trying this out for a while. If you believe it doesn't work very well in sectioning the chapter please let me know and I'll find some other method that'll work better.**

**Enjoy!**

_****NS****_

Sam placed a hand over the ear that wasn't attached to the phone in order to muffle out the sounds all around him. The clatter of dishes as Sid cleaned them, the clanging of the shop-bell as random stragglers made their way inside to buy meat, Dean and Izumi's raised voices from time to time when he smarted off to her about something. He'd snuck whiskey into the house at some point upon his return from "running some errands". Izumi had made it perfectly clear that she detested any form of consumption that could eventually destroy the body she'd trained them to know how to take better care of. Alcohol was at the top of the list, below it was smoking. Unhealthy foods almost made it on the list, but judging by the contents of the meat shop she didn't have much room to lecture in that regard, so instead latched onto Dean's drinking habits instead. Dean himself was none too pleased about this, one of his best friends happened to be a Mr. Jack Daniels, and he liked to visit him from time-to-time. But Mr. Daniels would have to wait until they were gone from this house…if Dean didn't die of withdrawal symptoms beforehand.

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes at all the racket. It was difficult enough to concentrate on what Al was saying period, much less what he was telling of the ill-famed State Alchemist killer Scar. According to the Elric's he was Ishvalan, a race of people that reminded Sam of the Jews during the Holocaust. The Ishvalans had been a peaceful people until the Uprising in the East, when the military had stepped in and all hell had broke loose. They were in some ways almost extinct, a great number of them having been annihilated during the war, much like the Jews when Hitler had struck down. But according to Al there were still small groups scattered across the country, many had sought refuge in camps where they worked together to survive living off the land and bearing with less-than-mediocre living arrangements. Sam didn't feel much sympathy towards them outside of the harsh treatment they'd been dealt, after all he had no connections with them on any level, he'd only just heard of them. But he had to admit…..and wonder….if the Ishvalan/Jew similarities ran deeper than he'd previously believed…right up to the top of the hierarchy pyramid. You didn't have a bloody war occur without a fearless leader to command the troops on one side, and from Sam had heard Bradley had reigned as Fuhrer for many years.

"Sam? You still there?"

The younger Winchester had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he'd barely noticed Al had been trying to get his attention for the last minute or so. However there'd been plenty of distractions lately. "Sorry Al…it's noisy over here," he offered lamely, knowing that Al wouldn't hold it against him but still felt the need to offer an explanation.

Bradley. Since the incident with the homunculus Greed there hadn't been any level of military-related visits to the Curtis' home (thankfully) save for Major Armstrong, but his intentions had leaned toward friendly rather than strictly business. Sam was fine with not having the Fuhrer around, it meant that he wasn't stuck with that weird feeling of foreboding every time the man came near him. The only problem was that Ed and Al were technically military. Ed was the one linked through his State Alchemist title, and Alphonse being his partner more or less was associated with the military as Ed's (almost) equal. It was hard to think of one being superior to the other, in fact the boys didn't really give off a military-vibe at all. If it were not for Ed's pocket-watch Sam would've found it hard to believe he was even a State Alchemist much less a military official with a rank similar to that of a Major.

Al had explained their dealings with Armstrong and this other military official named Hughes, a Lieutenant-Colonel with an affinity for the cuteness that was his one and only beloved daughter Alicia. Al had not gone into extreme detail but from what Sam gathered of his minor insertions of Hughes-centered trivia in their conversations the man was a mess, but a good mess. He was a loving father, wonderful husband, and he could level with kids as though he were a kid himself, but there was no denying he was good at his job. You didn't get to the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel by advertising your child's cuteness that was for sure.

"So tell me again, about his alchemy, how does that work?" Sam could hear Dean's raised voice as he argued that whiskey was medicinal in its own way and that it didn't hurt to have a drink every once in a while to calm his nerves.

It was one Ishvalan in particular that had caught Sam's attention. Scar had ruthlessly attacked the Elrics, had almost killed him, but what had stumped Sam the most was the man's alchemical abilities.

"He shouldn't even be using alchemy," Al explained, his voice even, but Sam could tell he was growing tired of their conversation running in circles. "The Ishvalans believe that alchemy is a sin against their God, Ishvala, and they despise it because of that. Scar even said that he believed it to be a sin…..but he still tried to kill us with it."

"And his arm…did you get a good look at it?" Al had mentioned that Scar's brand of alchemy was lacking a circle just as Ed's did. The only explanation for that was that either Scar knew something that they didn't…..or there was another name they needed to add to the Human Transmutation Club.

"No," Al replied, the hollow sound of his voice (aside from how his armor affected it) gave the impression of disappointment. "He was wearing a jacket, both of his arms were covered."

Sam cursed inwardly, but he sighed outwardly. "I feel like we keep taking one step forward only to be knocked a couple steps back."

"Yeah" was Al's only form of response, which lead Sam to believe that a change of topic was needed.

"So…what about this guy from Xing? You mentioned something about Alkahestry."

The opportunity to focus on something else helped to brighten Al's mood. "We're definitely going to look into it. Ling couldn't tell us anything, he didn't even know much about it himself. But should be able to find something."

"Does this mean you're headed for Central soon?" Sam knew that research meant books, the kind of books best found in the libraries in Central.

"Seems so. Does this mean you and your brother will be returning?" Al sounded almost hopeful for a positive response. Sam nearly chuckled at the possibility that the younger Elric just might have grown used to having them around. Ed not so much, but he was slowing making a one-eighty. He wasn't as awful as he'd been before when they first encountered each other.

There was indeed a fair reason for a rendezvous a la Hunters in Central. Since Bobby's latest discovery about the alchemical symbols it was necessary for them to dive in and hit the books as thoroughly as possible. Bobby couldn't give them anymore to go by other than that the symbols of both the Enochian language and alchemy were similar. He'd reassured the two of them that he would dig deeper and analyze them as best he could, but he'd hinted it would be nice to have a little help to lighten the load a bit.

"If you two mutts are done playing Bill Nye it'd be nice to have you open a book or two here," he'd told them both in his usual polite-yet-commanding sort of way.

They already had their tickets, part of Dean's "errands" had included booking their next train-ride. Izumi had appeared almost indifferent to their sudden need for departure, if Sam wasn't mistaken she actually seemed almost miffed by the change of plans. She must've believed they would stay on a little longer, build up more on their alchemy training. He had to wonder if in some ways she was making up for lost time with the Elrics by taking care of the Winchesters. He knew she missed them, even though she gave every impression that she wasn't hurting, it bothered her that the Elrics were off on their own, facing who knows what. If it wasn't for Sid, she'd more than likely sink into some minor form of depression. She may be the tougher one, but he was her rock, that much was clear.

"Yeah we'll be there," Sam answered finally, almost laughing aloud when Izumi called Dean an "abominable troglodyte on a mission of self-assassination". He had to give her points for that one.

"Great! You'll finally get to meet Winry," Al replied eagerly, almost _too_ eager.

"Well if she's anything like you described this trip will at least be worth the entertainment," Sam replied jokingly, thinking back on Al's description of the mechanically-inclined Winry Rockbell…..and how she and Ed were always at each other's throats.

Considering the fact that Ed and Dean were so similar, Sam had to wonder if she'd take to his brother the way she took to Al's. Which was, as far as Al was concerned, violently.

Sam and Al exchanged quick goodbyes before hanging up. The younger hunter wondered briefly if maybe they were rushing things a bit, after all they were not even close to being prepared to use alchemy in the real world in a professional manner if necessary. What if something went wrong? Izumi was like a lifeline for them in regards to alchemy. Even though she had agreed to keep them on as pupils (though they were leaving for a short time), it wasn't as though they could call her every now and then to make sure they were doing things right.

This was it. The big test. What Sam had done back in that alley when they'd fought the lizard-man had been minor compared to what they might _have_ to do in Central. It wouldn't be absolutely necessary for them to engage into some kind of battle, but should an incident as such occur, were they truly prepared for it? Could they pull this off?

Izumi had told them she would keep them on as pupils, but if they caused any trouble or abused their alchemy for any reason, they would be instantly expelled the moment she got wind of it. Sam's main concern was whether or not they would get their circles right and transmute in the manners they were taught. The idea of screwing up so badly they were expelled did nothing to lessen his stress. There was some detachment to that particular burdensome thought, he didn't truly believe they would actually go so far as to commit some unspeakable act….but what if they did?

Alchemy was a powerful thing, and like any form of power it can have a drug-like affect on its user. Ed and Al had become figuratively drunk on the potential ability to defy the laws of nature and resurrect their mother. They'd been children at the time, but intelligent enough to know what to do.

_With great power, comes great responsibility_.

Of all the awful and stressful events to have occurred, not to mention their stranded state, nothing scared Sam more at the moment than the possibility of misusing all that he'd learned in the last few months. He'd been drunk with power before, and look at where he'd ended up. Lucifer had been set free, and Sam had felt as though he should've been dead. For a short time he'd actually considered the idea of just ending it all, cutting himself loose from Dean so that his brother wouldn't have to carry the burden of having a treacherous sibling. It had been all he could do not to drink himself to sleep every night, or worse. His guilt had been so unbearable it had nearly choked him. He'd wanted to make things right, _had_ made things right in a way. And he was going to make things right this time.

Except this time he was going to play it smarter. He may be Sam Winchester, the demon-blood child and Lucifer's true vessel. But he was also Sam Winchester, the son of the great John Winchester, the younger brother of Dean Winchester. The adopted son of Robert Singer. He came from a family of heroes that made great sacrifices, that played the game the way it _should_ be played. And they'd come out victorious, some even died for it.

Sam may not be able to make things as right as they once were, but he'll be damned before he let the family name become even more tarnished. He wanted to make his dad proud.

No…he wanted to make _Dean_ proud. Even if it meant groaning their way through all the extra stuff that came with it.

The Devil would be wearing long-johns in a frozen Hell before Sam Winchester allowed for defeat this time.

_****NS****_

Of the two other cities they'd visited so far, neither of them could compare to the bustling metropolis that was Central. There was a pulse to the city that even Lior couldn't match, a sense of vitality that made Sam think of New York City. Noisy cars, crowded restaurants, parks dotted with couples and dog-owners out for a walk next to the big pond, salesmen advertising anything from food to books. There was a snack cart on one particular sidewalk, and it was only natural that Dean be allowed the chance to buy "breakfast".

"Where're we meetin' 'em at?" He asked, his mouth half-crammed with a bite of sandwich.

"Al said they'd be visiting Central Command first," Sam glanced all around them. There was a pulsating sort of vibration to the atmosphere, but it wasn't due to the city-folk and their busy lives. No…..this was something else. Something almost….dark.

"You feel that?" He asked Dean, hoping that it wasn't Lucifer playing with his mind again.

"Feel what?" Dean looked behind him as though expecting to find someone standing there. Sam realized he must've though a girl had made a pass on him or something.

"It's…..it's like some kind of vibration…but in the air…" Sam looked around too, half-expecting to find something flying around above the city. Perhaps it was a plane with one of those obnoxiously loud engines that practically shook the ground before taking off. This was the early twentieth century, flying would not be as advanced as it was in the twenty-first century.

"Is that a sex-toy reference or are you just trolling me?" Dean asked him, frowning around his bite of hotdog before swallowing it down.

"No I mean it, there's something…..strange here…" He didn't look at Dean as he spoke, but instead continued surveying their surroundings.

"I swear this better not be one of your psychic episodes, I don't think I could handle that right now," Dean took another bite of his hotdog. "Tell you what, scratch that. If you can find me a single woman that's not looking for commitment, that'll be the only thing I'd be wanting your psychic mojo for at the moment."

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't respond beyond a sigh. Dean must be either in a really good mood because they were no longer under the watchful eye of Izumi, or he was feeling a tad more stressed out now that they had even _more _work to do. Sam guessed it was leaning more towards the former, considering Dean' had flashed him a glance of the flask in his jacket pocket as they'd left the house this morning. Izumi hadn't seen it, but Sam had a feeling she knew that Dean had it.

What was more pressing at the moment was whether or not they should meet up with the Elrics first or attempt to find Bobby at the Central Library. It was only out of respect to Al that Sam wanted to find the boys first, after all he was expecting to see them as soon as possible. But years of loyalty to the only true surrogate parent they had overpowered whatever loyalty was blooming between himself and the Elrics. Sam doubted that Dean felt any loyalty to them beyond what was expected of him in terms of Equivalent Exchange. If one set of brothers helped the other, naturally the second set would be expected to offer help in return. This was the code all alchemists lived by, and since the Winchesters were now partially-trained alchemists themselves, it was their code to live by as well.

"Let's go find Bobby," Sam hitched the strap of his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder. "We can catch up to those two later."

"Just let me grab another 'dog first. I'm _starving_ for some reason," Dean grinned, heading back to the cart.

"Yeah it's not like you didn't eat much this morning," Sam called back jokingly, referring to Dean's "first breakfast" which had consisted of eggs, sausage, toast, bacon, biscuits and so on courtesy of Izumi as a form of a send-off. The hotdog was Dean's "second breakfast", reminding Sam of….

"Dude you're a friggin' Took," he chuckled at Dean upon his return.

"Did you just call me a tool?" Dean raised his eyebrows, chewing a bite of his second 'dog.

"No I meant that….never mind," Sam didn't feel like explaining it to him. It was a nerd thing after all.

They'd started walking again, making a right turn unto a (mostly) empty street. Whatever Dean would've snarked back with was cut short by a blur of yellow and red that turned a corner sharply and slammed right into Sam. Upon impact Sam's duffel bag slid off his shoulder and landed with a significant thump onto the asphalt. He looked down to see…Ed.

His head was lowered, bangs blocking the view of his face, but Sam could see that he was upset about something. There were small creases on what little of his forehead was exposed, and his eyes were wide with a kind of vulnerability. He was clearly out of breath given how he remained hunched over, gasping for air as though he'd ran several blocks. He immediately dropped to his knees, gloved hands curling into fists, one of which he punched into the ground, making Sam wince even though he knew it was the boy's metal hand and the gesture obviously hadn't hurt him one bit. Sam was about to ask him what was going on when the familiar clanking sound of Alphonse drew his attention upward once again to find the younger Elric rushing to catch up to his brother, a suitcase clasped tightly in one of his glove-hands.

"Ed wait!" He called after him, his voice clear and even, he didn't sound out of breath as Ed did. But why would he? Alphonse was a suit of armor after all, he didn't need to breath, he had no lungs to breath _with_. Still Sam thought it a bit unnerving that the kid had obviously ran quite a distance in order to catch up to his brother and yet he didn't appear tired at all.

Would he ever get used to Al in this way? As someone who wasn't quite alive yet very much a living part of this world?

"Brother…." Al slowed to a stop merely a few feet away from Ed, who had yet to give up his seat on the ground. His fist was still planted onto the asphalt, Sam could hear what sounded like the creak of leather when it was crushed in someone's grip and realized that Ed must be squeezing his fist so tight that his gloves just might tear under the strain.

"My fault….." Ed managed to say weakly, his gaze still trained downward. "….it's…it's all my fault…."

Sam didn't know to what he referred to, but the sight of Ed in this state tugged at him in a way he was familiar with. He was looking down, but it wasn't Ed he was seeing for a brief moment…it was Dean. All those times when Dean had been hurting….Sam hadn't truly known what to do. Dean always appeared so _together_, he was the toughest person Sam knew. Not that Sam never realized when Dean was hurting, but even during those times his brother still stood tall, like a warrior or a soldier. That was one of the reasons Sam had idolized Dean while they were growing up, because his brother seemed so indestructible, even when he was about to fall.

Unsure of how Ed would react, Sam carefully knelt down in front of the young alchemist. Ed may be tough, but underneath all that sarcasm and bravado, he was still just a kid. A kid that was hurting. And like a kid in pain, you're standing on a trapeze wire awaiting that one wrong move that will send you crashing down. You just hope that someone…anyone…had set up the safety net beforehand.

That's what Sam wanted to be for Ed just then….his safety net. He still wasn't sure why he did it, why he would even want to reach out to this kid, but just once he wanted to be the big brother for a change. He wanted to be depended on for comfort or support. Dean turned all of his pain inward so that it didn't affect others the way it did him, making it difficult for Sam to express any level of support so that his brother knew he was there. He was sure that Dean understood, but it was nice when he could play the dependable one for a change, the one that his brother could look up to.

In a way, it made him feel less helpless about his own problems, knowing that he could at least help someone else deal with their own demons.

Sam reached out slowly, cautiously, waiting for the moment when Ed would look up and glare at him upon seeing what he was trying to do. He gingerly laid his right hand on Edward's left shoulder, giving the boy a couple of seconds to register Sam's closer proximity to himself. The boy shuddered lightly at the hunter's touch, but made no move to push him away, instead he slid forward until his forehead rested against Sam's shoulder. It felt a little strange to do this, to have the young alchemist lean against him like a child would to his parent, but some part of it felt natural, as though for just a moment they weren't two alchemist from different worlds that argued from time-to-time. They were simply two humans, with human-oriented emotions, that needed subtle support once in a while.

So this is what it felt like, Sam mused silently. This is what it meant to be a big brother.

Ed allowed the contact for a moment or two longer before pulling away in order to stand up and brush the dirt from his pant-legs. Sam mimicked his actions, reaching to grab the duffel bag as he rose. Ed glanced up at him, his golden eyes weary and unfocused as he mumbled "sorry". Sam didn't see the need to apologize, but he had a feeling that Ed wouldn't be listening to him if he told him so. He seemed a bit out of it, kind of like how a sleepwalker appears in the midst of a late-night unconscious stroll.

Ed jammed his fists into his pockets and semi-circled around the Winchesters, being careful to avoid bumping into Dean as he went along. Even his stride appeared out of synch with his usual finesse and balance, he wobbled slightly as he turned. But then he turned a corner in the direction from where the Winchesters had just come and disappeared back into the flow of the city.

Al had watched the scene without a word, even when Ed had risen sluggishly to his feet and walked away he'd remained silent. Since Al's face appeared stoic no matter what, Sam could only go by what was in the younger boy's eyes in order to discern what could be going on in his head. There was a watery flicker to the illuminated orbs, and Sam realized that Al must be crying in his own unique way.

What had happened?

Dean was the one to ask the question aloud, "Al what's going on? What's with Ed?"

Al started a bit upon hearing Dean addressing him, hanging his head, the small orbs of light that were his eyes faded out a bit as though they were half-lidded. "Well…..it's…..I can't…."

"What is it Al?" Sam softened his voice, silently urging him to continue.

"Remember our friend?…..The Lieutenant-Colonel?…He's dead….Hughes is dead."

_****NS****_

"You see this here?" Bobby pointed to one of the symbols he'd drawn.

"What about it?" Dean asked, that particular question being one of the most commonly used tonight.

"Look again ya idjit. Notice anything?" Bobby replied, the beginnings of an agitated tone creeping into his voice.

Dean stared at the two symbols, the one Bobby was pointing at and its neighbor on the same page. The one on the left was an alchemical symbol, a Transmutation circle. It was red, circular with a triangle right-side-up in the middle, at the center of which was a mark similar in shape to a lightning bolt. At the top of the circle were two points that were facing either of the top sides of the triangle. Directly below the triangle was another point facing the bottom side of the triangle. All three points had a marking that jutted out of the circle's perimeter in a hook-like fashion but in straight lines rather than curves. The symbol on the right was one of the many Enochian symbols the boys had used over the years, most of which were involved in protection against the angelic host. They had acted as "heavenly devil's traps" so to speak, and had played a huge role in saving their lives a time or two. This particular symbol didn't have a circle, but it definitely had the same formula on a structural level. There was a triangle with three different points, each directly across the way from one of the three sides. However instead of a hook-like shape to the markings, each of these particular marks were different in style, but still appeared similar in formation as the letter "z".

"This three-point-marker-triangle thing pops up in several Enochian and Alchemy symbols," Sam pointed out, his fingers directing their attention towards the various other Alchemical symbols that had been drawn on a single sheet of paper. They were either red or white depending on the symbol, and quite a few of them had triangles in the center of a circle, with the three-point concept evident in their design. The first was a basic Transmutation circle, while the rest varied depending on their intended use.

They had paid for a room at the same hotel the Elric's were staying, but currently the trio was neck-deep in research material at the Central Library. Sam had wanted to catch up to the Elrics after their encounter in the alley, but upon realizing that Ed may want to be left alone by anyone other than Al, he'd decided against the thought. Now they were holed up in one of the many rooms in the library, books and papers scattered across two different tables, pencils laying here and there next to scraps of paper that had various sigils and circles drawn on them. They'd written a few notes down, but there wasn't quite enough information to crack the code of it all, the connection between the sigils and the circles. The foundation for Bobby's argument was the similarities that both types of symbols had in shape and design, but there was something missing, something that they desperately needed.

But what?

"Triangle means air right?" Dean inquired, nodding towards the Transmutation circle that Bobby had been referencing.

"Depends on the position of it," Bobby reminded him, "and the design."

"In witchcraft it's a right-side-up triangle with a line marked through near the top point," Sam mentioned, grabbing a pencil and drawing an example. "A regular right-side-up triangle, minus the line at the top, is the elemental symbol of fire."

"The reverse version of the witchy air-triangle is the elemental symbol for Earth," Bobby pointed out. "The reverse version of the witchy fire-triangle is the elemental symbol for water."

Sam stared at the protective symbols, developing a slight ache in his head as he always did when trying to read Enochian. It felt the same as attempting to read something on a television screen that flickered and was full of static, the letters and formation were familiar but you couldn't quite make it out. He had to admit this was quite a long-shot, trying to link the two "languages" together this way, but there was no denying there was some sort of connection there. He could feel it down in his bones, but without their usual resources this entire research project was becoming quite tedious.

"Do you think there's another way to read Enochian for other than what we've been using them for?" Sam mused, crossing his arms and biting on the end of his pencil. If it were at all possible to get muscle cramps in your brain, he was sure he was on the verge of developing one. The answer was _right there_, it had to be.

"What do you mean? Like how different transmutation circles mean different things? Or how one circle can mean several things?" Dean asked him, waving a hand over their handiwork.

"Symbolism is the toughest language to decipher," Bobby explained, "One symbol could stand for many things, and several symbols could stand for only one thing." He shook his head, "I just can't get my head around these two sets."

"You see this is why I could never be a writer," Dean chuckled, frowning. "One little thing could reference all kinds of bullshit and you never know which is the real deal. My Lit. teacher always yammered on about how 'Different phrases mean different things for everyone'."

Sam scoffed, "You mean you actually paid even the tiniest bit of attention in English?"

"Shut up Sam."

"Don't start that yapping again, we've got work to do here," Bobby said sternly, frowning pointedly at the two of them.

"My head friggin' hurts from staring at all this for….how the hell long has it been anyway?" Dean asked, the fingers of his left hand rubbing the T-section between his eyes.

Sam checked his watch, "Damn. Didn't realize how late it was."

"And we're getting nowhere with all this," Dean gestured at the stacks of books and papers. "Let's cool it until tomorrow okay? I'm starving."

"There's a dining room at the hotel, we can grab something on the way up to the room," Bobby replied, grabbing a handful of papers and books in preparation of cleaning up. Sam and Dean were on the verge of doing the same when the doors to the room suddenly burst open and a soldier came rushing in. He saluted them, though why they didn't know, and spoke in a clear and even voice despite the fact that he appeared to have ran all the way there.

"You are Sam and Dean Winchester correct?"

Stunned, the two boys slowly traded confused looks before returning their attention to the soldier and nodding.

"Your presence has been requested immediately at the Central Hotel by Edward Elric. He wishes to speak with you regarding an urgent matter."

Sam frowned, "What's wrong?"

The soldier remained stoic, "I'm not authorized to discuss the reasons for this request, however Major Elric didn't offer any explanations, just that I implore you to please hurry sirs."

Hearing a military official refer to them as "sirs" was strange but not out-of-character. Sam gave a curt nod, "We'll leave right away."

The soldier saluted them again and walked hastily from the room, closing the door behind him. Sam and Dean glanced at each other than turned to face Bobby.

He shrugged, "You might as well get going, I'll clean up here."

Sam nodded, wondering if perhaps something terrible had happened. What if Ed had hurt himself or got himself mixed up in a dangerous situation? After all he'd only just found out that a close friend of his had been murdered, it was a (weak) possibility that he may do something irrational that could get him injured or worse. However Ed didn't appear the type to seek out danger when he was upset. From what Sam had witnessed, he either spazzed out with a rant or drew inwardly to himself and refused to open up. Still that didn't erase the possibility that something bad had happened.

"Did you see how he saluted us?" Dean interrupted Sam's thoughts to ask jokingly, a sly grin on his boyish face. "That was pretty cool."

"You would get your ego stroked by that," Sam scoffed, grabbing his duffel-bag from one of the chairs, checking to make sure it was zipped up all the way.

"What you didn't feel all-powerful when he did that? Even for a second? It was like we could've ordered him to do anything we wanted just then." When Sam didn't respond Dean shook his head, "You're not fun man."

There was no time to waste, they had to get moving and fast. Sam snatched his jacket from the same chair his bag had resided and made for the door, not bothering to check of Dean was following him.

Once in the hallway Sam heard Bobby call after them, "Don't go getting yourselves killed!"

_****NS****_

In a darkened room somewhere in the city, bathed in the eerie glow of a single dangling lamp, two darkly figures conversed casually amidst the hum of animal noises. Stacks of cages were spread all around, each containing one or two chimeras of various designs. Strikingly dissimilar in many ways, one constant that remained were the characteristics of their eyes, little red orbs that glowed. They were not quite intelligent, merely scratching and clawing at each other as well as the bars of their cages. But there was indeed a calculating air to their movements, a sense of readiness in anticipation of a kill.

Ignoring all these sounds, the two figures, Lust and Envy, continued their conversation regarding the latest incident of the death of Maria Ross at the hand of Col. Roy Mustang. Having recently been convicted of Hughes' murder, she'd been charged and booked, awaiting her fate in the Central Prison. However some counteractive events occurred, which consisted of Maria Ross taking her fate into her own hands with the help of a stranger who aided in her escape. No one yet knew the identity of this unknown figure, but it was a safe bet amongst the military that the person was a criminal as well.

Then again, other rumors had begun to formulate. One of which painted a cryptic picture of the famous war-hero of a Colonel.

"After a daring escape, the fugitive is killed by Colonel Mustang, eager to avenge his best friend." Envy appeared quite gleeful while reminiscing the events of the night, finding pleasure in chaos as usual, "And all's well that ends well."

"Are you so sure about that?" Lust was reclined against a stack of empty cages, arms folded and regarding envy with minute concern. "The plan was supposed to be designed to get Mustang to behave himself."

Envy was visibly disappointed in Lust's lack of faith, but quickly recovered with a grin, "He took the bait, now he doesn't have a reason to snoop around anymore. Besides, we did manage to sow some animosity. His subordinates won't trust him much after this."

A slithery grin crept onto Lust's face, "True. Hopefully he'll be a good boy from now on."

"Now on to more pressing matters," Envy suddenly became serious, though the grin remained ever so slightly. "What's to be done of those two boys?"

"The Winchesters?" Lust's grin disappeared, replaced with a thoughtful look. "Wrath believes they may conclude to be troublesome. He's Seen what they truly are, gifted as he is with that Eye." She touched a finger to her chin, pondering, "That Sam boy interests me the most. According to Wrath he's…different."

"Different how?" Envy inquired, resting a hand on his hip and regarding Lust with a bemused expression.

"I'm not sure, but we better keep an eye out on them," Lust's grin returned. "After all Father believes they could prove to be of some use."

Envy's grin faded slightly as he contemplated something, then it returned more fully and really showing his teeth. "If they prove to be troublesome…..why not put them on a leash as well?"

Lust's eyes seemed to curve in anticipation of Envy's next words, "Enlighten me."

"Well," Envy's grin seemed to grow impossibly wider, "how about we have some fun with that old man of theirs?"

_****NS****_

"Damn it's eerie out here," Dean turned up his collar against the wind, stuffing his fists into his jacket pockets. Somehow, between the time they'd first left Central up until their return, the temperature had dropped quite a few degrees. Nothing too serious, but it was enough to feel chilly at night.

"Do you think Bobby can figure out the connection between the symbols?" Sam asked, eyes sweeping across their surroundings. That feeling he'd had earlier upon entering back into Central was still going strong, though he'd been hoping to ignore it as much as possible. He'd been successful in that regard whilst neck-deep in research, but now that his nose was out of a book and he wasn't concentrating strongly something else, the vibe had come rushing back like a fierce wave. Though much like his suspicion of the Fuhrer, there wasn't much he could do about this strange feeling of the city, so he chose to keep it to himself once again.

"Honestly I think this whole thing is bigger than even Bobby can handle," Dean admitted, though he appeared disgusted at the thought that there was something Bobby was incapable of dealing with. Most children believed their parents, usually the father, to be practically indestructible, and that nothing could thwart them. Sam and Dean weren't children, but at times it was almost too easy to slip into that child-oriented mentality.

"I hope not," Sam replied, turning up his own collar now that the wind was beginning to really pick up. "Otherwise we're more screwed than we already are."

"I didn't think we could get any more screwed," Dean muttered, Sam choosing to ignore the comment. He didn't want to start that argument again, not now.

The hotel was only a few blocks from the library and, given how late it was at this point, there was a possibility that the dining room was closed, which Sam knew would only piss Dean off. However upon entering they came to discover that it was in fact still open, and Sam left Dean to order some food to bring back upstairs while he went ahead to meet up with the Elric's. He remembered Al mentioning that their family-friend Winry was accompanying them this time and that she was staying in a room close to their own. Sam had a reason to believe that, given their closeness to her, she might be included in whatever conversation that was going to take place tonight. However he also had reason to believe that Ed would've kept certain facts to himself regarding these two boys he'd only just met a few months ago. Still there was a possibility that Ed had told her the Winchesters' secret, but Sam had no way of knowing just how much she would know without talking to Al in private first.

Which was impossible given the fact that he was sitting on a couch next to the famous Winry, the two of them seated across from another couch which was presently occupied by a lounging Edward Elric. He sat up the moment Sam had entered the room, motioning for him to sit. Looking pointedly past the taller man's shoulder he asked, "Where's Dean?"

"Doing what he does best," Sam shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the arm of the couch, "grabbing something to eat. He'll be up in a minute." He sat down next to Ed, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded out in front him, awaiting their next move.

"Oh," Al seemed suddenly conscious that Winry was present, he gestured at her with a gloved hand, "Sam this is Winry Rockbell, she's a friend of ours from Risembool."

Winry, from what Sam could tell, was supposedly an inch or two taller than Ed. She had light blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that when let down Sam was sure it reached to her lower back. Her ears were pierced and she wore a white top with a black skirt and boots that reached her knees. Her face was oval in shape, and she didn't appear to be wearing any makeup, which wasn't exactly strange but not quite common amongst teenage girls, and supposedly she was about the same age as Al.

She gave a kind smile at Sam, "It's a pleasure to meet you Sam. Al's told me a bit about you, and your brother."

Just how much _did_ she know then? "Nice to meet you too," Sam gave a half-smile, despite her obvious want to put him at ease the situation was still slightly awkward to say the least.

"Thank you for coming," Ed replied, surprising both Sam and the other two, the three of them mutually understanding that Ed wasn't always this polite. It surprised Sam the most because he wasn't used to hearing phrases like that from Ed.

"Uh….sure," Sam offered as a response, not sure how else to reply. Thinking back on something, he chose this moment to ask, "What's with the formality that soldier showed us? I thought they only saluted fellow military personnel?"

Edward shrugged, "It felt necessary to tell them you are our allies, which in a sense puts you in the same rank as myself. I guess they believed you must be close to the title of a Major and thought to show you the proper respect in that regard."

It seemed logical, if not a bit irrational. However Sam was saved from further comment by the return of Dean, using his boot to tap against the door as a way of knocking. Sam made quick work of opening the door, standing back to give his brother room to shuffle his way in carrying a few bags.

"Anyb'dy 'ungry?" He asked through his teeth which were clamped shut holding another paper bag. Dean began laying out his bagged culinary treasures on the coffee table, opening the bag he'd had in his mouth to reveal a small cardboard tray supporting four cups of steaming hot tea. Dean must not have been conscious about the fact that Al couldn't drink anything. Al, in attempt to put him at ease, took the opportunity of saving Dean by declining the beverage and offering it to Winry instead, which she gratefully accepted. Dean mumbled a "sorry" to Al before nodding at Winry's direction as a way of greeting, knowing who she was based on previous statements by Al through Sam.

"Alright, what's up? You said it was urgent," Dean initiated the subject while pulling out various small to-go boxes of food from the many bags on the table. There were sandwiches, strips of chicken and beef, steamed vegetables, small containers filled with some kind of sauce, rolls, rice, noodles, mashed potatoes and so on.

"Have you read the papers recently?" Ed accepted one of the plates Dean was passing out and began spooning bits of everything onto it. His movements seemed wooden, as though he were on autopilot and his heart wasn't really into eating. Considering that he'd just lost a good friend it made sense that he would seem almost robotic in his movements at the moment, but Sam couldn't help but find it strange seeing him like this.

"No we haven't had a chance, we've been in the library all day," Dean explained, grabbing a small packet containing a fork and knife and immediately digging into the pile on his plate.

"How's that coming?" Al asked, fixing a plate for Winry and passing it to her. Sam guessed this was more out wanting something to do with the food rather than mere politeness. He couldn't imagine how awkward it must be to not have the physical attributes needed for sustenance and to have to be surrounded by all this food.

"It's slow-go," Sam explained, taking a strip of beef and dipping it into one of the sauce containers before sticking it into his mouth. It tasted pretty good. The boys had never explained the whole Enochian thing to the Elrics, they'd simply offered the excuse of needing more study in alchemy, which was half of the truth.

"It takes a while to fully understand it all so don't rush it," Ed surprised Sam once again by offering that bit of advice. He nodded in understanding, glad that he was too busy chewing to answer verbally. This side of Ed was somewhat unsettling for him, having grown used to his more sarcastic and child-like tendencies. The whole issue with Hughes' death must've hit him harder than they'd formerly realized.

"Here," Al reached out to hand Sam a folded newspaper, "you should read this."

Sam took the paper from him, setting his plate down on the table, unfolding it to read the front page news consisting of a picture of a young woman with short hair and a mole just under her left eye. The article identified her as 2nd Lt. Maria Ross….the prime suspect in the death of Brigadier-General Maes Hughes.

"She didn't do it though did she?" Sam glanced over at Ed, gears turning in his brain, "Is that why you called us over here? You think she's innocent?"

"I don't think," Ed replied firmly, eyes focused on the paper in Sam's hands. "I don't believe it was the 2nd Lieutenant, it just can't be. Something's not right here."

"The military is certain she's to blame," Al explained, his armor creaking ever so slightly with his movements as he spoke. "They wouldn't convict someone of a murder unless they had substantial evidence showing there was a possibility the person convicted was responsible." He lowered his head in sadness, "Still it's….."

"It's a cruel joke is what it is," Ed finished for him, using a metal fist to prop up his chin. "There's no way she could've done it, it's just not possible."

"Well I don't think that's good enough to clear her name Fullmetal," Dean pointed out.

"There's no point to clearing it now….she's dead," Ed replied calmly.

Sam and Dean exchanged bemused looks before staring at Ed. "How? When?" Sam asked.

"She broke out of prison tonight, the military was ordered to take her down, shoot-to-kill if necessary," Ed placed his face in his hands. "The Colonel was the one that got her."

By "Colonel" Sam understood he was referring to his superior, "Colonel Mustang you mean?"

"He torched her," was Ed's form of confirmation. "There was hardly enough left to identify the remains."

"Wait a second," Dean interjected. "Didn't you once say that this Hughes guy and the Colonel were good friends?"

Al nodded, "They were in the Ishvalan war together, they remained good friends for years."

"Was this the Colonel's way to get revenge? By killing the suspect?" Sam skimmed through the article once again, "There's evidence pointing that she's guilty but not enough to show for certain that she was responsible." It made sense that Mustang would want to be involved in apprehending the suspect responsible, but to go so far as to kill someone without a proper trial first? This was purely a case of revenge, there was nothing else to it.

"I don't know what to call it," Ed replied, straightening up and curling his hands into fists. "All I know is that bastard didn't have to go _that_ far. She didn't deserve to die like that."

"He's the Flame Alchemist isn't he?" Dean queried, tossing his now empty plate into the trash. "That's how he did it right? I think I remember hearing something about those gloves of his."

"They're made with ignition cloth," Al explained. "There are Transmutation circles specifically designed for transmuting fire sewn on the back of each glove. When he snaps it makes a spark, then he uses alchemy to change the oxygen density in the air."

"I'm sure he was quite the asset in the Uprising," Dean replied sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest.

"Not now Dean," Sam told him. Now wasn't the time for jokes.

"Was this all you needed to talk to us about?" Dean was serious again when he asked Ed that question.

"Well…there is one other thing," Ed looked pointedly at Winry, who had remained quiet as she'd listened to their conversation. At Ed's meaningful look she quickly set her plate down and stood up.

"I need to be getting to bed, it's late." She slipped from the room, softly closing the door behind her. Ed waited a few moments, listening for the muffled click of her hotel room door shutting, before returning his attention back to the Winchesters.

"Al had another flashback of the Truth…..but this time it was different," Ed began, his expression neutral. "He said the memories were…..well they're not his," he glanced at his brother, "Tell them Al."

Al appeared suddenly sheepish, as though his next words could quite possibly get him into some kind of trouble. He placed a glove-hand on the back of his helmet in a nervous gesture, "Um…..well…"

"What is it Al?" Dean walked around the couch to occupy Winry's seat.

"Well…..it's actually something to do with you Dean," Al replied, turning to face the older hunter.

Dean's eyebrows lifted slightly in curiosity, "Really?"

"But first I have to ask you something."

Dean frowned at that, "Okay…shoot."

Al sighed, looking directly into the hunter's eyes.

"Dean….who is Castiel?"

_****NS****_

In the same darkened room as before, illuminated by the eerie glow of the single dangling lamp, Lust and Envy were once again at a rendezvous of sorts, accompanied by the many stacks of snarling chimeras. Envy was just returning from a trip to Central Command, disguised as a soldier with a large mustache. Lust was once again reclined against a stack of cages, arms folded and calmly awaiting news.

"I was able to locate a witness that saw the man that orchestrated the break-out," Envy explained upon approach, red lights like flickering ribbons dancing all around him as he shifted back to his natural form. He handed Lust a small folded piece of paper, "Here, this is a rough sketch of the guy."

Lust glanced down at the drawing with mild surprise upon recognizing the instigator, "Oh, he's still alive then?" She took the drawing from Envy to get a closer look, "Is there any direct connection to the Colonel?"

Envy raised his hands above his head in order to stretch, "Who knows? My money says he's the one behind it though."

Lust glanced suspiciously at him, "Where did he run off to?"

Envy became instantly uncomfortable, "Well he did leave pretty suddenly, and he's good at hiding."

"In other words you have no idea. You're useless," Lust replied in an accusing tone, not amused.

"Don't blame this on me you ugly hag," Envy replied defensively, "I'm short on man-power."

Lust quirked an eyebrow, "Man-power?"

At that precise moment, one particularly caged being chose the opportunity to begin rattling its cage. Lust turned to survey the snarling figure with calculating interest, "But you've got plenty of man-power here."

Unlike its fellow caged neighbors, this prisoner appeared to be human, though seemingly lacking the ability of human speech. He grunted and growled, long-nailed fingers slapping and grasping at the cage bars. Only half of his face was visible, the other half was covered in a mask designed to look like the top-half of a skull but smoother, his hair long and blonde in complete disarray. His clothes were ragged and torn, and there was evidence of a previous struggle in the cuts and bruises all over his body and bare feet. Patches of rotted skin gave a spotted look to his complexion, sure signs of wear and tear to his form. Another contrast between himself and his caged companions was his eyes, they didn't glow red like the chimeras, but a faint white due to the light of the room.

Upon seeing his liveliness, Lust's slithery grin returned.

"It looks like you're finally on….Barry the Chopper."


	15. Bad Company

_He's a friend of ours._

Dean's voice continued to swim in and out of clarity in Sam's mind, popping up in the midst of other ponderings that were currently preventing his ability to sleep.

He rolled over on his back, eyes glued to the white ceiling. If he squinted his eyes just enough, it was possible to see the cracks and craters in the tiles, signs that this hotel had been around for many years. Sam wondered if the cracks in his life were just as visible if another person merely looked hard enough.

_Dean…..who is Castiel?_

Dean's eyes had widened a fraction upon hearing that name, partly out of confusion due to the fact that the Elrics knew nothing of their angel friend-gone-rogue, and partly out of surprise because they hadn't spoken a word of Cas in quite some time. Although Sam was sure that Cas plagued Dean's mind, the same way he plagued Sam's. It still shocked him how things went down, finding out exactly the kind of person Cas could be.

_He's a friend of ours._

It had taken a moment for those words to come out, but when they finally did, Dean's shoulders had sagged with the weight of dark knowledge but incapable of expressing any kind of upset over it at the time. Ed and Al didn't question him beyond that, something about Dean's expression must've tipped them off that it was a touchy subject. The Elrics didn't know. The Elrics didn't _need_ to know.

At least…..not now.

"_So you will bow down, and profess your love onto me, your Lord...or I shall destroy you."_

There was a cruel irony to their situation now that he thought about it. Cas had expected their loyalty to be given without question or half-heartedness, claiming to be the new "God" as it were. And now they found themselves in another place and time, with a different crowd, and the concept of a God-complex was still in full swing.

One screwed-up situation traded for another. Only in this world it had to do with the military and the Philospher's Stone.

"_Therefore, it is only fitting…upon your attempt to take my life from me….that I relieve you of something you value….something your mundane ideology has deemed…..precious."_

Equivalent Exchange had its own unique weight and value in their world, unlike this one to an extent. However in some ways, these situations were not so different. Or maybe…

"_I require your soul Sam…right now."_

The suspicion of military involvement in something dark and mysterious that could harm countless others. Their connections with these monsters called Homonucli. The Fifth Laboratory. The ingredients needed to make a Philosopher's Stone. Al had explained to Sam about the required ingredients, it had been one of the reasons the Elrics had come close to abandoning their efforts to search for the Stone. Sam hadn't really paid much attention to the details, trading in souls for power or deals was something that he was very familiar with, in his line of work it happened all the time.

But with the new development of the possible connections between alchemy and the Enochian language, did that mean….?

"_I require your soul Sam…right now."_

Were the angels involved in this? They had the ability to create things out of nothing, to bypass Equivalent Exchange and build alternate worlds if only for a little while. Gabriel had certainly done that, Zachariah had done the same a few years ago. Djinns and Tricksters were capable of creating fake worlds, whether in your mind only or out in the real world, either way it could be done. But unlike those two, angels didn't rely on human blood or sweets to get their kicks. No, they relied on something else entirely. Aside from their own given celestial power, there was only one other ingredient required for an angel to become more powerful than they should be.

Human souls.

But if the angels weren't involved in this, than what could it be? Perhaps there was some known knowledge in this world regarding Enochian, someone could've discovered its use. If someone had discovered that angels can use soul-power, and that souls were pure and powerful, they just might be playing copy-cat in using them for power in alchemy. After all it was the soul-power in the Stone that gave it the ability to amplify a person's alchemical abilities, and it was soul-power that had given Cas the ability to help them time-travel, not to mention his supersonic "god-like" abilities now.

Was Cas a part of this then? He'd explained that his efforts to attempt thwarting Rafael had begun right after Sam had taken the fatal leap into Lucifer's cage. How long had the suspicious incidents been going on in Amestris?

Cas had needed all the souls in Purgatory in order to gain enough power to destroy Rafael, but he'd gone off the deep-end as a result, drunk with power but in the worst possible way. If angel's could travel between worlds, what's to stop him from devouring this one? And if plenty of souls were captured inside a single Stone, it wouldn't be that difficult.

Sam rubbed his fingers over his eyes, sighing quietly to himself. He had a feeling that Dean wasn't asleep, but he didn't have the heart to ask him anything about what he was thinking. At some point they would have to, this whole thing was spinning and twisting into something darker and more dangerous than they'd previously imagined. The way things were unfolding, and the secrets each twist and turned revealed, felt like the slowly increasing pressure of a hand against the pillow placed on a person's face. More and more pressure added and you felt the painful yet soothing sensation of suffocation creeping from your lungs all the way up until it put a fogginess on your brain. It was only a matter of time before you ran out of air, and after that…then what?

It was awfully quiet tonight, another sign that Dean wasn't asleep, there wasn't the slightest hint of light snoring in the bed near Sam's. This didn't surprise him, the events of the previous evening were keeping him up as well, and it was damn late. What did surprise him was the sound of rushing footsteps from out in the hallway, followed a second later by a series of insistent knocks on the door to their room.

The two of them quickly shot up, Dean rubbing a hand across his face muttering something about "bad fucking timing" before walking sluggishly over to open the door. Standing in front of him was the same soldier as before, the one that had brought them the request from Ed to speak with them at the hotel. This time he was accompanied by the hotel manager, slowly lowering a closed fist, enough evidence to show whose knocking was responsible for Dean's current bitterness.

"What is it?' He asked none-too gently, and within good reason, one glance at his watch told Sam it was well past midnight.

"There's been an incident at the Central Library."

That got Sam to his feet and approaching the door while Dean's back went rigid and he snapped to attention. "What happened?" he demanded, bracing himself for the worst.

The hotel manager answered this time, uneasy with Dean's attitude, the fingers of his left hand twisting the fabric of his right sleeve. "Your friend, the elder chap, he was attacked tonight in the library."

"Attacked? By who?" Sam looked at them in bemusement, his heart sinking with each passing second they spent chatting about this. What had happened to Bobby?

"We're not sure who is responsible," the soldier replied stoically. "The suspect was unarmed and broke into the library after closing time. Your companion was still in use of his room at that time, an investigation is still underway."

"It took quite some time to locate the two of you," the manager replied, dropping his arms to hang stiffly at his sides. "The hospital attempted to reach you at the home number listed on your records but no one appeared to be home."

Of course, the ridiculous pink house. Sam supposed they could've stayed there instead of spending money on some hotel, but instead they'd made the choice to stick close to the Elric brothers, and truth-be-told the house made Sam a bit nauseous. For a moment he considered burning it, but they still had the state of its rigging to consider.

"Thanks we'll head over to the hospital right now," Dean quickly shut the door in their faces, not bothering with chivalry. Bobby was hurt or worse, and it must be bad otherwise he would've called them himself or had someone to call the hotel for him right?

Sam's heart sank even further. They couldn't lose him, not now. Bobby was like a life-line in this chaotic world, he kept them grounded and focused. If Sid was the rock in Izumi's life, Bobby was rock in theirs as cheesy as it sounded. There was no hesitation, having already been sleeping in their jeans it was unnecessary to change, they simply slipped into their shoes, grabbed Sam's duffel, their jackets and keys before heading out the door. The soldier was still waiting on them, but the manager had scurried off somewhere, probably downstairs to attend to other matters.

Good thing too. As upset as Dean was at the moment, and Sam had no doubt about it, the man's fidgety nature would only grate on the older hunter's nerves.

The soldier guided them downstairs, directing them towards a black early twentieth-century car, property of the military from the looks of the uniformed driver. The boys climbed into the backseat while their escort claimed the passenger seat, nodding at the driver to head out. Sam's head was spinning with possibilities, imagery-based scenarios of what could've happened to Bobby, each as bloody and cruel as the last. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on the fact that the soldier had yet to mention that Bobby was in critical condition, just that he'd been attacked, so there was the possibility that he was perfectly fine.

But that didn't erase Sam's fears nonetheless.

_****NS****_

"Well?" Lust slithered from the wall, her pale face illuminated with a ghostly glow. She inclined her head to focus on Envy, perched on an empty cage, his giddy and youthful face in his hands.

"It went splendidly," Envy said with no small trace of smugness, "better than I'd imagined actually." He splayed his hands, sitting up straight with a wide grin.

"The plan was to shake them up," Lust folded her arms, the action boosting her cleavage, emphasizing the Ouroboros tattoo on her chest.

"It was just a bit of fun," Envy replied, a slight whine to his tone. He couldn't believe Lust's intent to ruin his good mood. "and you did agree it was a necessary move."

"That may be true, but given what I've heard about those boys…..we don't need vengeance on their minds." Lust turned her gaze to the empty cage that had housed the soulless form of Barry the Chopper for quite some time, her expression blank.

"There's nothing to worry about," Envy stood up and stretched, his tone nonchalant with a touch of exasperation.

"I suppose I may be over-thinking this," she remained focused on the cage, but didn't appear to be truly looking at it. "Still, we shouldn't underestimate those two. They are hunters after all." Lust swiveled her head to give Envy a knowing look, "And you know what it is they hunt don't you? I can assure it's not deer."

"You mean _us?_" Now Envy was serious, returning her teasing gaze with a look of bemusement. "I've heard the stories. I've just never believed them to be true."

"No _us_ specifically," Lust looked pointedly at one of the snarling chimeras, "but nothing human that's for sure."

"Monsters?" Envy cocked a slim eyebrow, the tendrils of his hair swaying like the leaves of a palm tree as he chuckled. "We're not monsters. We are masterpieces. The true monsters _are_ humans. Wouldn't you agree?"

"They may be ignorant of many things," Lust's sultry voice carried across the room with a subtle firmness. "However they are not quite as feral as one of these," she kicked the cage, startling the chimera into growling and clawing at the bars.

"And yet they never learn from their mistakes," Envy braced a left hand to his hip, gesticulating with his right. "Even the most feral of beasts would be able to learn from its errors in order to survive. Humans continue to wage wars and slaughter one another for centuries without ceasing."

"Yet with all that fighting, they never truly know what they're fighting for," Lust seemed to finish his train of thought.

"And you wonder why I have no faith in the little rats," Envy continued to grin but there was a disgusted look in his eyes. "They're as good as dead the moment they're born."

"Still," Lust's voice now lowered in cadence, almost thoughtful, "it would be best to avoid allowing your little game to progress more than is necessary." She turned to face him with a smug grin of her own, "After all Father wouldn't be pleased if your playtime jeopardized his plans."

_****NS****_

Bobby had always been a stronghold for the boys, a sanctuary of sorts, a pillar to hold them up, whatever you may call it. He was a source of strength and comfort, a cargo-hold filled with this, that and the other, whatever you needed for moral support. They'd seen him knocked down, beaten, bloodied, even killed, to a point where they should've grown immune to it. Maybe not to a point where they were not hurt at the sight of it, but at the very least to a point where they didn't react as emotionally. Sometimes the two of them needed to be the stronghold for a change, to be Bobby's strength and comfort, the kind that only hunters would understand.

However watching him lying there, oblivious of the world around him as he remained unconscious for yet another hour, he appeared to be rather small. Surrounded by large pillows, blankets, and an IV, he seemed as fragile as ever.

A coma. That was the diagnosis after hours of continuous testing and observation. Severe trauma to the head. It was midday, the boys had been sticking around, shuffling from location to location in restless laps, waiting. Waiting. For something. Anything. Any sign of his awakening, any clue from the doctors as to how long it could be before he awoke. If he ever awoke that is.

But he remained in slumber. The only signs of life were his steady breathing, and the twitching motions he made when the doctor checked his reflexes.

There was still an investigation as to the proceedings that led up to Bobby's hospitalization, particularly the strange being that broke into the Central Library after hours. Whoever this stranger was, he supposedly didn't appear nor act like a typical convict or evildoer. From what little bits of trivia Sam had managed to eavesdrop on here in the hospital, the suspect had been racing around the building on all fours, kind of like a dog. He'd startled some employees, knocked things around to make a mess, and yet he never once attacked anyone. That is until he came into the room Bobby was still cleaning up. There were no clues as to the whereabouts of this strange man, just that he and Bobby had quite the struggle, but in the end he'd been no match for the dog-like pursuer. In the end he'd been left unconscious on the floor, a heavy blow to the head, while the suspect had bolted. The room itself had been left in greater disarray than before, papers and books scattered all around, some of their notes torn and crumbled.

Since Dean was off on another coffee run, either the fifth or sixth (they'd lost track at this point), Sam was left alone with his thoughts.

Only Bobby had been hurt during the assault, which lead them to believe he was the only target for the stranger. The idea of someone intentionally planning to kill Bobby, or at the very least hurt him, made Sam clench his fist. About a million different possibilities had raced through his mind from the moment he'd heard of the attack, but none came quite as close to explaining things as what Sam believed was the more obvious explanation: Someone, somewhere, had heard they were working with the Elrics in cracking the case about the military and the Homunculi, and were obviously trying to shut them up.

Hughes had attempted to help the Elric's, and eventually ended up dead from a gunshot wound at pointblank range. Every person so far, from Sam's understanding, that had either helped or befriended either Ed or Al was now dead or close enough. They were all in danger now, even the trio, and Sam wasn't sure if it would be worth the effort to pull out. If Bobby was now a target, that meant that Dean and himself were targets as well, they were officially marked. Obviously this whole scheme ran deeper and on a more shady level than they'd originally anticipated, so much that whoever was the mastermind would be quick to slay them all should they pose a problem to this mysterious plan. But what was it? What was so epically diabolical that these faceless maniacs would risk more lives to create a cover-up or simply to throw people off their trail?

Even more important, did either of the Winchesters have the guts or bravado to muscle their way through whatever muddy trails lay ahead?

If they pulled back now, one of the three possibilities should occur: Either they were left alone by these faceless pursuers, and no longer held grounds for investigating the case further, or they dropped the case and the evildoers continued the assaults. The more sensible of the three was the option to keep looking, but surely death was a possible outcome of that. But death was a possible outcome no matter which option they chose. If either Sam or Dean planned on uncovering the reasons behind Bobby's hospitalization, they would need to dive further into a world that held just as many (if not more) menacing secrets than their own.

The door to their room opened to reveal Dean's tired face as he gripped a steaming cup of coffee in each hand and a small paper bag clenched in his teeth. For most people, to carry bags in their teeth in such a manner, it just didn't work, but for Dean it was almost…fitting. Strangely enough.

Sam accepted his cup, offering to take the bag from Dean's "grip" as he did so. "I think it's about time we got to the bottom of this don't you?"

Dean half-reclined at the end of the bed, shifting his weight to get comfortable. He took a sip of his coffee, winced briefly at the hot temperature, and gazed at Bobby's still form. "Definitely," he answered finally, the exhaustion in his voice did nothing to smother his contempt for the situation at hand. When you messed with one of them, you messed with _all_ of them.

Sam sipped his coffee as well, wincing at the sting of the heat on his tongue, but a fix was a fix. "Except this time….I'm joining in on the rough-housing," he replied with a small trace of venom in his tone.

Despite his tiredness, Dean managed a wide grin, "I love it when we're on the same mental wavelength."

_****NS****_

The sun was beginning to set, and Alphonse Elric was just emerging from the hotel, his stride quick and determined. Sam and Dean jogged to catch up with him, silently grateful that he stopped and waited for them to catch their breath. Panting, Sam braced himself against the wall of the hotel, looking directly at Al.

"Where's Ed? We need to talk to the both of you. It's urgent."

Al shook his head, "Major Armstrong came by this morning and took him away. Apparently Ed has some business in Risembool, something about his automail. Though to tell you the truth, I think it's something else, I just don't know what. Things have been very strange lately." He was speaking rather rapidly, more direct than usual, letting Sam know that Al was currently dealing with an urgent matter of his own. Maybe it was the same as their own problem.

"Bobby was attacked last night at the library," Dean offered, keeping the conversation going in their planned direction. "We think the same people that went after him were also involved in Hughes' death."

Al sucked in a phantom breath, "You mean…"

"We were hoping you wouldn't mind teaming up on this," Sam proposed, straightening to stand in front of Al. He extended his hand in offering, "We need to put a stop to all this before someone else gets hurt."

Al hesitated for a moment, gazing first from Sam, to his hand, and back again. But he quickly clasped Sam's hand inside his gloved one and shook it firmly. "Deal"

That "deal" began the moment it was made, for Al had just been leaving to catch up with Colonel Mustang in order to offer his assistance in the investigation of Hughes' murder. He quickly filled them in on what he'd been told recently by his friend from Xing. Ling was his name, and he was…..well…..different was the only word Al could give them at the moment. They had to jog to keep up with him, given the fact that Al never tired it made racing behind him rather difficult, but they managed to stay within a few feet of him. At certain points Al would even slow up in order to allow them a chance to catch up to him.

"So you're saying the Colonel didn't kill that girl after all?" Sam huffed, his side beginning to ache with all the exercise.

"Yes," Al's voice was as clear and even as ever. "He's also trying to weed out whoever was involved at the Fifth Lab. And he used the help of a convicted murderer to do it."

"Barry the Chopper," Dean panted, "did the Easterner happen to mention anything else?"

"Not really," Al replied, but didn't offer anything else, leaving Sam to wonder what Al was holding back.

They had no clue where the Colonel was, but the man was making it easy to figure out when a sudden explosion took place in the tower of one of the buildings and a ball of something fat and covered in fire came crashing down. Flame Alchemist indeed.

"I'm guessing that's them," Dean replied sarcastically, pressing a hand to his side, huffing with the effort to catch his breath. The tower was still a couple of blocks or more away, but they should be able to catch the Colonel and his posse.

It took less time than they'd planned, turning a corner into an alley (what the hell was it with all the allies lately?) to find a military vehicle driven by none other than Colonel Roy Mustang himself. He slammed the brakes upon seeing Al's approach, frowning in suspicion when he saw that the youngest Elric was not alone. He was clad in the traditional blue uniform of all military personnel, short jet-black hair and his hands bore a pair of white gloves, on the backs of which was the Transmutation circle used for fire. There was the symbol of fire itself located at the tops of each circle, two overlapping triangles, and a series of random designs here and there involving small lines and even smaller triangles. Accompanying him in the front seat was his second-in-command, the ever loyal Riza Hawkeye, whose name seemed fitting given that her gaze swiveled and focused as sharply as a hawk's would in search of prey. Her hair was long and blonde, though not as light as Winry's, and she had it pulled back in a clip. Rather than sporting the military uniform, she was clad in khaki pants and a black short-sleeved shirt with gun holsters wrapped around her waist and shoulders. Seated in the back was a man clothed mostly in black, his face covered in a black mask with a single hole in the front that was large enough for his blue eyes to see out of. Sam would come to know later that this was Jean Havoc, another trusted member of Mustang's team, and part of the armed escort for this little trip.

Having to cram six people into one small car was no picnic, with Al twisting as much as he could to give Dean and Havoc room, and Sam trying as he might to avoid brushing his elbow against Hawkeye's left breast. Although she didn't appear offended or embarrassed by the close proximity, he couldn't believe that it didn't bother her in some small way. It was the most awkward ride he'd ever endured….and he'd once been in the Impala with a demon and an angel riding in the backseat. Mustang didn't ask too many questions, either he wasn't that interested at the moment as to who they were or he already knew. Neither of his companions felt obligated to ask questions either, which only encouraged the notion that the Colonel was familiar with the Winchesters already.

They were riding along the alleyways, the Colonel trying to catch up the aforementioned convict-in-arms Barry the Chopper, racing past building after building in pursuit of…..Sam didn't know what. It took him a minute to realize that it wasn't a human but rather a suit of armor, much like Al, and he was missing an arm. He had on some kind of one-piece dress-robe with fur trim and a belt that wound around his left shoulder and right waist. His face was a skull, his helmet adorned with a white mane. Above his eyes on the right side was a large hole in his helmet, the eyes themselves glowed in the same manner as Al's did. The single arm that he had was swaying back and forth as he ran, a large butcher's blade swinging dangerously along with it.

Mustang matched the armored man's pace in order to give out an order, "Don't let him get away!"

"He ain't goin' nowhere!" Barry replied evenly, his eyes focused on the path ahead as he continued to run. He chuckled maliciously, "My soul won't be able to rest! Not until I eviscerate that meat-bag!"

Sam wasn't sure what the hell he meant by that, frowning as he continued to watch Barry race down the alleyway, Mustang keeping a good pace with him. It wasn't until Al tapped him on the shoulder and pointed outside the car, towards the tops of the buildings, that he realized what "meat-bag" had meant. On the rooftops, racing at the same rapid pace as Barry, was a very disheveled looking man. He was dirty and ragged, his clothes torn, seemingly barefoot, running on all four limbs.

_On all fours….?_

"So you think we can expect another appearance from that blubber-beast back there?" Hawkeye replied, busy reloading a small hand-gun revolver as she spoke. She'd directed the question at the Colonel, who remained focused on the road ahead.

_Blubber-beast?_

"I doubt it," he answered without looking at her. "I scorched him off the ledge."

"Yeah, and I shot him in the head," Hawkeye loaded the last two rounds in. "But he didn't really seem to mind."

Something that could be injured fatally but not die….that sounded like….

"He didn't have an Ouroboros tattoo did he?" Sam asked her, his back half against the passenger side door as he turned to face her.

She glanced at him cautiously, though more out of calculation of memory rather than direct suspicion of his asking such a question. "A tattoo? Well…..Actually yeah, on his tongue."

"In that case," Al explained, leaning forward, "you were probably dealing with a Homunculus."

There was a collective gasp around the interior of the car from those that had yet to witness anything related to the homunculi monsters. Both Mustang and Hawkeye glanced at Al sharply, the Colonel's grip loosened on the steering wheel and the car swerved dangerously towards Barry who bellowed, "WATCH IT MUSTANG!"

"Hold on a damn second!" Mustang directed that question to Al, pounding his fist against the steering wheel. "What are you saying Al? That's just not possible!"

"What did the Homunculus do to you?" Dean asked Hawkeye, tapping her shoulder to get her attention.

"He advanced on me, and I unloaded some lead in him," Hawkeye replied, a touch of pride in her voice, then her tone went sour. "But not a single bullet was enough to stop him. He came close to chomping my head off, said he wanted to eat me…That's when I saw the tattoo on his tongue. But how is it possible that the bullets nor the fire could kill him?"

"I don't know how they're capable of cheating death but they are," Al went on to explain. "I know this because I got kidnapped by a homunculus. He called himself Greed. One thing he told me is that _nothing's_ impossible. I know for a fact they have amazing healing powers."

"You said that Greed got the top half of his head knocked off?" Sam pointed out, "but a minute later it just…grew back?"

Al nodded, directing his next words back to Mustang and Hawkeye, "They're real all right, but I understand if you don't believe me."

Hawkeye frowned thoughtfully, "After what I just saw…I _have_ to believe you."

"Hold on," Mustang interjected. "I rendered Fat Boy into a blubbering puddle back there. Are you telling me he's still alive?"

"More than likely you'll need to have a homunculi barbeque in order to gank that mother for good Colonel," Dean pointed out.

"Wonderful!" Mustang replied cynically. "Just a never-ending parade of freaks lately huh?"

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," Dean snarked, twisting in his seat to get comfortable, his back half-against Al's side.

Mustang didn't reply beyond a snort.

Their pursuit of the four-limbed-runner ended up at a large building that was enclosed behind a large fence and iron-gate. They pulled over, away from the entrance, to avoid the watchful eye of any guards out front. The seven of them, now joined by the armored Barry the Chopper, situated themselves accordingly in order to get a peak at the building together. The building itself was similar in shape to that of a large white-brick-church building, minus the typical touch of religious décor. Half the windows were alit in a yellow glow, as was the walkway and front doors. A large window was located on the face of the building, just above the wooden double doors, in front of which stood a team of white lab coats casually chatting.

"My body ran in there," replied Barry, his tone held a small degree of childlike delight. "Seems to think it could hide from me."

His body? Wait…..

"You mean that's your _real_ body you were chasing back there?" Dean whispered as he looked at him strangely.

"Oh yes, yes it is," Barry explained, the childlike delight increasing by another degree. "You see those fools at the Fifth Lab ripped my soul out and placed it in this suit of armor. While some other soul, an animal's from the looks of it, was forced into my real body."

Sam couldn't imagine what it would've been like if someone else's soul had been shoved into his body. Being soulless had been bad enough, to have someone else's inhabit him would be just…awkward.

"The Third Laboratory huh?" Mustang replied quietly as he gazed at the monstrosity of a building. "So this ties them directly to the military."

"Wow, your military is a hell-of-a-log shadier than ours apparently," Dean scoffed as he chuckled.

Mustang ignored him, too focused on the mission. He straightened to face the group, "That's all we need for now. We're pulling back."

Barry on the other hand, had a different approach. "Well you have fun with that!" he replied gleefully as he clanked his way into a jog and made straight for the entrance, ignoring Havoc's calls for him to retreat. Sound of a struggle could be heard from near the wooden doors as Barry barged his way through.

"That psycho's stormed the building," Havoc's voice sounded funny with the mask.

Mustang folded his arms, "Yep. It's our lucky day."

Havoc looked taken aback, "Huh?"

Mustang glanced at the Winchesters, "You two, are you armed?"

Sam and Dean nodded, no need to exchange questioning glances. They were ready for whatever came next.

"Well then let's move in," Mustang ordered, he'd discarded his gloves into one of his many pockets and replaced his choice of weapon with a gun.

He lead the way into the building, looking every bit as leader-ly as any man of higher rank possibly could. Even his gait had a kind of authoritative movement to it. The rest of them followed closely behind, Hawkeye and Havoc with guns at the ready. Sam and Dean made quick work of drawing their own 9mm's, after all if they were to assume to role of members of Mustang's group, it was necessary to look the part. They walked briskly through the hallways, where scientists in lab coats were already wide-eyed with panic. Obviously this was the path Barry had chosen to barge through, blade swinging.

"All personnel must evacuate immediately!" Mustang commanded, his gun trained on the ceiling to emphasize a serious situation was at hand.

Along with the lab-coated employees there was also a few military soldiers at hand as well, and one approached Mustang with a saluted hand and a look of incredulity. "Um….Colonel..?"

"Stay back," Mustang ordered him. "The man who broke in is a deranged murderer. My men will handle his capture." Upon their approach to a descending stairway, Mustang gave one last command to the officer, "Order your guards to seal off the exits!"

"Yes sir!" the soldier quickly scurried away to carry out his orders.

The six of them glanced briefly over the stairway before descending into darkness. They eventually came through a pair of metal doors to find themselves in a hallway that was pitch-black on both ends with pipes running along the ceiling. It looked as though the lower parts of the Lab descended into the sewers, there was indeed a hint of misty air in this part of the building, as though they were close to a water source. Stopping to survey their surroundings, there was only two ways to go, and either way could be the wrong one.

"How the hell are we supposed to find him?" Havoc replied, slightly agitated.

"We're gonna have to split up," Mustang replied, looking pointedly at Lieutenant Hawkeye, who replied instantly with a nod and a "Yes sir".

Mustang and Havoc chose one direction and made for the blackness, while Sam and Dean remained with Al and Hawkeye, who chose the opposite direction. It might've been a better idea for either Dean or Sam to have gone with the other group, at least for the sake of keeping both groups even. Impending danger always seemed to escalate a little quicker for some reason when one of the good-guy teams outnumbered the other. Or maybe that was just in movies and such. But Sam was in no state of mind to be content enough to separate from his brother, and he believed that Dean was thinking the same, considering he made no objection to their arrangement.

They continued on in silence, the only sounds were their thudding footfalls, their breathing, and the clanking of Al's armor. The hallway gradually descended in a downward slope, the air becoming the tiniest bit mistier as they went along. Perhaps one of the many pipes had sprung a leak somewhere. They eventually came to another fork-in-the-road and, just like before, Sam and Dean stuck together. Al and Hawkeye continued straight along the path, while the Winchesters turned right into another darkened hallway.

"Yeah this isn't creepy at all," Dean commented darkly after several moments of silence.

"It's not our first rodeo with a creepy place Dean," Sam felt obliged to remind him.

"I'm not scared Sam, I'm just getting sick of ending up in places that look like the setting of a Tim Burton film," Dean snarked back. He looked sideways at Sam, "You got a flashlight by any chance?"

"Where the hell is yours?" Sam asked, already in the process of removing his own. If anything at least he'd have it ready should he need it. It was dark enough to be eerie, but not so dark that they couldn't see at all.

"Left it in the duffel at the hospital," Dean replied, absent-mindedly patting his jacket pockets as though expecting to miraculously find it there. "We were in such a hurry I didn't think to grab it."

"Bag's too heavy to run with anyway," Sam reminded him. They'd left their duffel under Bobby's bead, hoping that the hospital staff didn't happen across it before they had a chance to retrieve it.

They descended further and further, the downward slope subtle but effective, leading Sam to believe they were truly underground at this point. The lab seemingly was connected directly with the sewers after all, Sam could hear the faint sounds of rushing water…..or maybe that was coming from one of the pipes overhead.

"You hear that?" Dean stopped suddenly, holding out a hand for Sam to do so as well.

"What? The water?" Sam stood still, listening hard.

"No, not that. Listen." Dean cocked his head to one side, not moving a single muscle as he focused on the sound.

Sam heard it then, it was a slightly disturbing sound, a mixture of different things. An evil little cackle here, a gurgling sound there, breathing that sounded like a sick-person that was congested.

"You remember _Left 4 Dead 2_?" Dean whispered to him.

Sam vaguely remembered the game, one of those zombiepocalypse storylines. "Yeah what about it?"

"That sounds like one of those damn back-humpers," Dean explained.

"Back-what?" Sam whispered, confused.

"A _Jockey_," Dean hissed at him.

Sam was about to respond with a sarcastic comment when something large and fast flew past them, stirring the wet air around them into a short-lived vortex. Both boys whipped around ending up back-to-back, guns raised, Sam pointing the flashlight in all directions hoping to catch a glimpse of the dark mass again. It flew past them a second time, knocking Dean against the wall and moving so fast Sam didn't have time to catch it in the beam of his torch. It flew by again and this time Sam was the one to be sent flying against a wall, his flashlight doing likewise and skidding across the concrete floor.

He heard another thud, sounding off a body slamming into a wall, as he scrambled to pick up his fallen torch, and then Dean's voice shouting "RUN SAM!"

He would've turned to face his attacker, would've gone to help his brother, would've avoided pulling such a pussi-fied move as running away like this. But the urgency in Dean's voice, and the swiftness of the monster (not to mention all the things he'd learned recently about the creatures of this world), gave him enough encouragement to get to his feet. He was going to feel like a wuss about this later, but at the moment he was more concerned with not dying at the hands of a faceless creature.

So he ran.

_****NS****_

Colonel Roy Mustang was many things, all of them debatable, though all of them in some ways very true. He'd heard many accusations against his person for years, ranging from his affinity for being a connoisseur of women to a man whose only goal was to gain the next rank in the military. He supposed he deserved them, all of the rumors and such, for he did nothing to quiet them, and military gossip was as flighty as a beauty salon's. He heard the whispers wherever he went, knew what his fellow soldiers must think of him, a man his age rising to the top so quickly. He had to have some dealings with the upper ranks had he not?

Oh yes, he knew what others saw of him, but the greater mystery was just beneath the surface. Underneath a pale, handsome face, and award-winning smile, was the calculating mind of a genius. Though he was not quite as brilliant as some, he definitely held rhetorical seniority above many others. The Colonel prided himself in his ability to keep a hand in all things at once, to control the situation from his single post as Colonel, rather than subject to a higher-up for help. He had the resources, the perfect staff at the ready for his command, years of training under his belt, and a cleverness that often surprised even his superiors. For a man as young as he was, Mustang had the mind of a leader with years of authority under his belt, and a familiarity with all things that a military officer could possibly witness.

Though that was not to say he never had setbacks. Certainly a time or two he'd been caught in an unlikely situation that put him on the fault, or turned the tables so that he was not as in control as he'd originally planned. He had his brilliant staff to thank for all the times they'd saved his ass.

His staff was his pride, his well-chosen chess pieces on the board game of life. Naturally one would take a glance at his group and automatically assume that the Lieutenant was the glue holding them together, as well as the perfect shot to get the job done. However a closer look and you could see where the talents of the remaining members played a significant role, each playing his own part in Mustang's little game of honey-do-list. Aside from Hawkeye, Roy would have to say that Havoc was also an excellent marksman, second in rank of gunmanship next to the famous sniper from the Easter Rebellion.

Hawkeye had two phases for her use of weaponry, depending on which type of gun she preferred to use at the time. For hand-guns, she was brute force, her aim dead-on-balls accurate every time, firing one after another without hesitation. She never missed. When using a sniper-rifle, she was a shadow, a slippery figure that one would hate to cross without decent cover. Her time in the Ishvalan war had matured her capabilities to a point where she could hit any target no matter the location or her position. This bit of trivia, as well as the team's personal experience with both gun-phases, earned the Lieutenant the codename of "Hawk's Eye". Not to say that Havoc was not as qualified, he was amazingly gifted with weaponry as well, though he preferred the shotgun over a rifle. But there was something about Hawkeye's finesse with her guns that made it difficult for any other soldier to compare.

Mustang hated to split from the Lieutenant, she was his bodyguard after all, in some ways even his moral fortitude. He'd built a level of trust with her that he couldn't quite find with anyone else, more than likely it was due to the fact that she'd first put her trust in him with her father's secrets. He demanded the best from her, and that's what she gave him every time, nothing less than one-hundred-percent perfection in getting the job done right. On the other hand Hawkeye was in some ways an independent spirit, she could handle herself accordingly with or without his presence, not to mention she was the best choice to go with Al and his two friends.

Sam and Dean. Mustang had briefed both of their files the moment he caught wind of their names which had been associated with the Fuhrer's after the incident in Central and Freezer had gone off the deep-end. However he'd run into a literary-wall of sorts, finding nothing more than insurance papers and information regarding a house. They had no background, no record whatsoever, nothing. It was as if they'd just appeared out of thin air, which was ridiculous to believe.

It made Mustang nervous.

But if Al, and he supposed Fullmetal as well, were both trusting of these two, and this third member of their group who Mustang had recently learned was now hospitalized, he supposed that would have to do for now. They'd certainly been cooperative in the pursuit of Barry's body, not to mention acting as military personnel when the group had entered the Lab, but that wouldn't be quite enough for Roy. He needed more if he was going to trust those two.

"What a dump," Havoc broke the silence, lifting the mask from his face as he surveyed the scenery. His blonde hair slid free of the face-condom and lay tousled on his head.

Along the hallway was a series of large rooms, all of which were trashed, a diversity of lab equipment scattered along every available surface. There were dark stains here and there, some of them on the tools themselves, even in the darkness it was easy to discern it was blood. There were bits of cobweb here and there, but no signs of eight-legged life among them. Some of the rooms had windows that were barred, a sure sign that whatever patients had been brought here had not been allowed the privilege to wander at their leisure.

"It doesn't look like anybody's used this lab in a while," Mustang pointed out, noting the layers of dust and how certain bits of metal were rusted over.

"I guess not," Havoc agreed, looking around the room in dismay. The atmosphere in the room was growing increasingly formidable with each clue they uncovered. Havoc nodded towards the equipment, "What _is_ this stuff?"

Mustang glanced along the tools as well, looking pointedly at the darkened stains. "I have no idea. But whatever they did here, it was painful for someone."

"Well now, I am just shocked."

Both Mustang and Havoc immediately raised their guns, pointing them towards the back of the room where a door leading to yet another room stood ajar. Silhouetted in the dim light was a woman, young and beautiful, her raven hair a mass of wavy curls that draped along her back. She had pale skin and dark lips, dark eyes that were slanted and she stood just over five-feet-tall. She wore a black split-side dress, strapless that reached all the way to her ankles, which were covered in the leather boots she wore that seemingly hid most of her calves. She wore black gloves that reached up past her elbows, both the gloves and the dress had a strange design of red dots and lines that ran along her limbs. Her voice sounded slippery, reminding Mustang of a snake with it's tongue flickering at its enemies, coiled and ready to strike.

She advanced toward them, her stride as graceful as a cat's. She appeared so out of place here and yet it seemed fitting that she would be found in a place like this, her casual demeanor emphasizing the fact that she was used to dark and formidable environments such as this one.

"It's bad enough that you stood me up on our date, and now you point a gun at me? You've got some nerve don't you?"

She directed the question to Havoc, who gaped in surprise the moment she cam further into the light and he could see her clearly. "Solaris? What's going on?"

While Havoc questioned his once-believed-to-be-innocent girlfriend, Mustang got a good look at a familiar red mark on her chest. The mark of a homunculus. "Hey Havoc, your girl's got the tattoo!"

"Yeah, first I've seen it sir," Havoc replied, half ashamed yet half surprised. Apparently Solaris had kept it covered all those times she and Havoc went out together.

Solaris laughed at their puzzled expressions, which were fixed on her chest. "Quit staring," she folded her arms which only emphasized her cleavage, "it's not very polite."

"Well, I can see how she tricked you so easily," Mustang replied half teasingly to Havoc. "You've always been a sucker for big boobs."

Havoc gave a half-sob of defeat, "I can't help it! I love 'em!"

Mustang was in no mood for a sensual discussion, replying in a stern voice, "Did you tell this woman _anything?_"

Havoc immediately became serious, "No, I never said a single thing about work….sir."

Mustang fixed a glare on Solaris, who returned it whole heartedly. "Tell me," he began, "do you know who Maes Hughes is?"

"Oh, yes," Solaris replied, her tone neutral. "He was quite the intelligent man wouldn't you agree? I only wish I'd had the opportunity to pick his brain."

Mustang fired off a shot at Solaris' knee, causing her to buckle slightly from the blow. "ON YOUR KNEES! I want to know everything!" he commanded.

"Sorry to say," Solaris straightened, revealing the wound that was now flickering with red light as it healed in a manner of seconds, "but it's going to take more than you're capable of to make me get on my -"

Four more shots, three in her chest and another in her forehead, and yet she still remained standing. She laughed at his attempt to overpower her, more ribbons of flickering red light signaling that she was already healing herself of each wound. "How merciless!" she cackled, straightening up, "did you pick that up in Ishval? Huh?" She licked her lips to taste the blood running down her face from the gunshot wound to her head.

Havoc gasped, speaking the very words that Mustang had only just discovered himself mere minutes ago, "You're a homunculus!"

"Indeed, how very astute of you Jean, but I doubt you've seen _this_ one," she flexed the fingers of her right hand, they grew immediately into five blade-like appendages which she used to slit her chest open in order to reveal the crimson stone inside of her. She used the fingers of her free hand to hold the gaping wound open while ribbons of light danced around the hole in an attempt to heal it. "Take a good look boys. It's a Philosopher's Stone. I was created with this stone at my core. It's not just a legend, it's my heart."

Mustang raised his gun further, "You're a monster!"

"Well that was uncalled for," she schooled her features to appear insulted. "I _do_ have feelings. Apart from a few things I was made nearly identical to you. I _am_ human."

"I've got a funny feeling the only reason you're telling us this is because you don't plan on letting us live," Mustang replied quietly.

"Yep," Solaris grinned. "it's such a shame!" She used her blade-like fingers to slice in their direction, drawing blood from the two of them in several cuts, as well as slicing Roy's gun to pieces. Mustang dropped what was left of his weapon to quickly pull on his gloves.

"Too slow!" She sliced through the air again, but this time she was aiming at one of the large pipes overhead, which split neatly in two as it released a rain of water onto both of them. The pipes then fell to the ground with a heavy clank. Water was Mustang's worst enemy at times, it was the main reason behind previous setbacks. He hated to admit that water made him useless, because it rendered his gloves useless.

"Oh no! Did I get your ignition glove all wet?" Solaris purred in satisfaction. "Silly me!"

It would be foolish to try and take her down with hand-to-hand combat, so both men had no choice but to run, at least run from this room. It took only a matter of seconds, but she was too fast, gaining on them the whole time, slicing at their heels as they went. Both men slid through the open door and rolled off to either side, bracing their backs against the wall.

"What are we gonna do?" Havoc demanded urgently. "She'll shred us with her freaky fingers!"

Mustang gave a sly grin, "No she made a big mistake. She flooded the room with water. A quick transmutation and we have hydrogen gas." He placed a gloved hand to the wet floor just as Havoc was flicking open his lighter and lighting it. He tossed the flame into the air, Roy letting it sail over her head before activating his alchemy fully. The room was alit in a blue light just before the reaction hit the flame and the whole room burst in an explosion of hot air and fire. The flames quickly died down, leaving the air hung in a steamy mass of burned flesh and thin layer of humidity. The two men cautiously reentered the room. Solaris was nowhere to be found, except all over the walls and floor. The explosion had blown her to bits, scattering her remains in all directions.

"Ugh," Havoc had gone searching through the wreckage to rescue his lighter, which was now soaked with water and showing tell-tale signs of having been torched. "Crap. This was a gift from one of my ex-girlfriends!" He tried in vain to get another flame going, the cigarette he'd just placed in his mouth twitching as he grit his teeth in frustration, but the flint wouldn't light. He turned to face Mustang, who was still surveying his handiwork, "Hey Colonel! You mind giving me a light here?" Roy gave him a dirty look, to which Havoc grinned and replied with, "Oh right, you're all wet."

Mustang stiffened, "Yeah? Well those things will kill you, you know that!" He glanced around once again, his gazed focused even more on the fresh red stains along the walls, they stood out almost viciously compared to the darker ones. "She's dust. I definitely cremated her."

"How do you know for sure sir?"

"The stench," Mustang explained, pressing his fingers to his nose again. "I'm pretty familiar with that stink by now."

"You mean from that time you spent in Ishval?" Havoc was not hesitant to ask, but Roy wasn't answering it.

"For all we know she can still regenerate," he pointed out. "So stay alert."

Havoc, realizing that his superior was of no mood to offer further comment, simply replied with a stoic "Yes sir", just as two spear-like black appendages shot through his lower back. The aim was almost perfect, narrowly missing his spinal cord. Solaris tore her fingers free, ripping out a stream of Havoc's blood, the force of the movement jerking him face-first to the floor. Solaris was a blur of tissue and bone, with ribbons of red light flickering all around her, becoming whole once again as she arose from her remains along the floor.

"HAVOC!" Mustang cried out, not even caring how vulnerable he sounded just now. One of his best men, his most loyal, lay in a pool of his own blood. He wasn't moving. Mustang fell to one knee, placing a ginger hand on his subordinate's shoulder, "Havoc, hang in there!"

"Don't kid yourself," Solaris chuckled casually, red light dancing around her as she continued to regenerate herself. There were cracks all along the surface of her skin as it healed itself. She flexed a handful of spear-like fingers. "He's a dead man."

"No he's not!" Mustang grabbed Havoc's shotgun and put a single shot into her head, knocking her flat on her back.

"Give up!" She taunted him, half-risen on her elbows, red lights signaling her immortal body's effort to make itself whole again. "There's nothing you can do that'll kill me!" She fixed him with a mocking pair of purple eyes and a sly grin that quickly faded as he placed a boot against her right arm, holding her down.

"Then you won't mind, if I borrow this!" He slammed his right hand into the gaping hole in her chest. The crimson stone glowed in the brilliant light, suspended by an intricate web of veins and tissues. It was soft and smooth, even in Roy's gloved hands, and he used nothing short of brute force to rip it out of her chest. She cried out in pain, but he ignored her displeasure, focused as he was on saving his friend. The second the stone was free, her body began to turn to dust, breaking down in a cloud of smoke.

Mustang turned away from the scene, slightly comforted that she was falling to pieces. "I need it to save Havoc," he explained, though his audience wasn't really listening, he was more or less talking to himself at this point. "I don't know that much about medicinal alchemy," he reached Havoc's side, laying a hand on the unconscious man's shoulder, "but this should amplify my abilities."

The red stone seemed to pulse in his hand, surrounded by its own tiny atmosphere of flickering red light, miniature lightning strikes in a cloudless storm. But before he had a chance to challenge what level of power was captured within it, his clenched hand became constricted by a gurgling mass of muscle tissue and bone as Solaris' almost-fully-regenerated hand closed around his fingers and tugged. Mustang turned in surprise to see her half-healed face, with a single glowing red eye, the bone and muscle tissue all showing in the midst of her healing.

"It seems like you should buy a girl dinner first, before you stick your hand in her chest" she replied, her voice slightly hoarse as it too was regenerating itself. Mustang cried out, jerking backward in an attempt to break free of her bony grip, but she held fast to him while her free hand pierced his side with two spear-like fingers ripping straight through.

"I told you," she explained triumphantly as her voice returned to normal, scissoring her fingers, drawing more blood. "The Philosopher's Stone is my core." She tore her fingers free, still maintaining a grip on his hand as he fell to his side. "I really hate to do this," now fully regenerated once again, she began sliding his glove off finger-by-finger, "you were a prime candidate for sacrifice and all. But you've forced me to kill you." She pulled the glove free, jerking his arm to the side, forcing him on his back.

"Damn you" he croaked through gritted teeth, the pain was almost too much to bear. He could feel the beginnings of coldness sweeping throughout his body as the blood drained from his side.

She used her appendages to shred the glove, allowing it to litter the floor in tiny white strips. "Save your breath. I want you to watch poor Jean bleed to death, then you can die." She turned and walked casually from the room, her heels clicking along the floor as she went.

Roy wasn't sure how much longer he had, his strength was waning as his blood drained. He was certain it would only be a matter of minutes before he died, but it was Havoc he was the most concerned for. He hadn't moved, not once, since she struck him down, and Mustang's worry only increased with every passing second that Havoc remained practically lifeless. There was a faint sound of his breathing, but it was so shallow, and he'd lost so much blood, Roy wasn't sure how much longer he'd have.

"Jean," he croaked, unable to reach for his subordinate, too weak to lift so much as a hand. "Hey, answer me," when he still didn't receive a response Roy became a bit flustered. "Havoc! You can't die! Not yet, not before I do!"

Mustang forced his neck muscles to turn, allowing him to glance at Havoc, still motionless, face-down in a pool of his own blood. Roy glanced around, willing his body to move in order to accommodate his efforts to get moving, to do something. Anything. It couldn't end like this, with the two of them defeated this way, awaiting death while lying in their own blood. He twisted, grunting with the effort, a sharp pain searing along his wound and all down his side. Ignoring it, he braced himself on his elbow, dragging the rest of his body forward in order to reach for Havoc. As he did so, his eyes happened across a small dark shape lying just a foot away from Havoc's gloved hand. It was no bigger than a box of matches, and had been clearly ruined by some sort of flamery.

The lighter.

_****NS****_

"You are either very brave…..or very foolish to wander this way."

There had been several instances in Sam's life where he had felt truly helpless.

"You humans never cease to amaze me, predictable as you are…"

There'd been the incident where Dean had gone to Hell.

"…..but you hunters on the other hand…you are _truly_ something else."

That time when he'd killed Lilith only to realize he'd set Lucifer free.

"Can I now? Can I?"

Even his trip to Hell had been nerve-racking to the maximum.

"Yes, yes you may…"

But this….this was something else.

"But try not to make a mess"

It wasn't that he felt helpless in the typical way where he felt outnumbered…it was more or less out_classed_ in terms of species. Supernatural species.

_Try not to what?_

"_He came close to chomping my head off, said he wanted to eat me…"_

Hawkeye's voice rang clear in his mind just as the monster struck.

A grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat.

A massive, rolling tongue that dripped saliva.

An Ouroboros tattoo.


	16. Through The Fire And Flames

**A/N: Dun dun duuuun…..Carry on :3**

Sam wondered briefly if it was possible to hear your skull crack under excessive pressure, if so he was sure he should be hearing it right now, what with the iron-grip of this monster and the force with which it held Sam's face in its massive hands. The stench of its breath was making him gag as he grasped at the monster's hands, pain shooting up his arm every time he moved it. He was almost positive he'd actually heard the bone snap.

The stench became even more unbearable when the creature brought its face closer to his own. Sam attempted a kick at its midsection, but his foot connected with a few-hundred-pounds of…..well sturdiness was the best way to describe it. The thing may be huge, but it certainly wasn't flopping its weight around. Sam could feel the wet atmosphere from inside its mouth, wafting towards his face, when a burst of heat and light erupted all around them and the monster shrieked in surprise. It dropped Sam to the floor, shuffling around on its feet, Sam feeling small tremors in the floor from the force of its weight moving about.

Fire. That had been fire just now.

"Duck Sam!" someone commanded him. It sounded like a man.

And he did duck, just as another burst of flame filled the hallway and Sam caught his first decent glimpse of the creature in the light. He looked human, a very large human, but Sam knew better. What with that Ouroborus tattoo and the fact that the fire didn't appear to have even singed him permanently, not to mention the red flickering lights as his body immediately began to regenerate itself.

Sam was looking at a Homunculus, truly seeing one, for the first time.

"I said get down!" the voice roared, closer this time, as another burst of flame shot out. It blew all around the monster, burning him on all sides, a spherical ball of fire that rotated on an axis as it scorched the monster. He roared his discomfort, arms flailing about as the fire shook him. It went out but was quickly followed by another blaze, Sam using the opportunity of light to quickly glance upon his rescuer. Colonel Mustang stood, open shirt revealing obvious signs of injury, glove-less with a lighter in his right hand. On the back of it was his Transmutation circle, seemingly carved in his own skin. From the looks of it, he was using the flint of the lighter for ignition, and the circle on his hand provided his ability to perform alchemy.

Smart man.

The Homunculus roared again in displeasure, red lights flickering here and there as he healed himself, parts of his skin sizzling from the scorch. There was a small cloud of smoke around him that was quickly disappearing, but he didn't give Mustang a chance to correct the matter by torching him even more. He immediately turned on his heel and ran away just as the Colonel was on the verge of lighting the flint again. Sam waited a brief second, just to be sure the thing was truly gone, before struggling to get to his feet, using his right elbow for extra support rather than his right hand. Pain shot up his arm once again, he sincerely hoped he didn't damage himself any further.

"Thank y-" but Sam didn't get a chance to finish before he rushed to catch the Colonel as he was falling. Sam took hold of Mustang's left hand and worked to drape it over his shoulders. He attempted to support the man's back by bracing his right arm against it, making sure not to apply too much pressure on the part that was supposedly broken. He'd picked Mustang's left side in order to keep his right hand free for anymore necessary flame-work, though Sam doubted the monster would be back it didn't hurt to be on the safe side.

"Where's the Lieutenant?" Mustang croaked, gritting his teeth in pain with each wobbly step they took.

"We had to split from them, there was another hallway," Sam grunted with the effort of carrying the Colonel. Thankfully Roy was attempting to support himself as much as possible. "What happened to you?"

"Homunculus," Roy explained, wincing when Sam's hip touched his side as they walked. "She got me in the side. I used my alchemy to close the wound." He paused before adding, "Havoc wasn't so lucky. He needs help."

"Sorry for this then," Sam offered, a tiny bit of guilt washing over him as he realized the injured side in question was in fact the one that was touching Sam's hip. The contact was hurting the Colonel, but there was no other way to support him. "My right arm's broken or I'd have been standing on your right side. And we need your right hand free just in case."

"S'okay," Mustang reasoned, "just take me to the Lieutenant. Please."

"I think they're this way," Sam nodded down one hallway, "though I can't be sure. It's like a maze down here."

"It'll have to do for now," Mustang's voice was growing softer, leaving Sam to guess that he didn't have much strength left in him. They had to hurry before the Colonel passed out, leaving Sam to carry him. But there was a different kind of worry that was steadily gaining formidable strength in his mind.

What had happened to that woman he'd spoken to? She'd seemingly disappeared once the monster attacked Sam.

But more importantly, where was Dean?

_****NS****_

It was only a matter of minutes before they could hear the gunshots, cries of despair, and the fatal clicking sound of a gun that was out of ammunition. Sam struggled to speed up their pace, forcing the colonel to bump against him even more. Up ahead was a large opening into one of the rooms, bright white light was pouring out into the hallway. Sam could see the shadow of someone in the doorway, female from the looks of it, and thin flickering red reflections on the floor. Red lights.

Homunculus.

"Hurry" Mustang whispered urgently, and Sam tried. But he'd been dragging the Colonel through one hallway after another in an attempt to find the Lieutenant and Alphonse. He was positive that it was the Lieutenant's cries of despair he'd just heard, but whether or not Al was among them could not be said for certain.

And whether or not Dean was among them was the most troubling question of all.

"Are you done?" The supposed woman was seemingly the one to ask that question, considering it was the closest sound to them, just beyond the doorway. And it sounded familiar.

Sam tried to be quiet in moving the two of them forward, but the task was rather difficult. Roy was unsteady on his feet, causing Sam to be unsteady as well as he tried to support him. He strained his ears in an effort to listen in on what was happening inside that room, suspicious of the possibility that the sounds they were making would arouse someone's attention. If it was the wrong kind of attention then they were screwed.

"Such a sad and weak creature. Another typical human," the familiar voice came again, and Sam finally realized why it registered with him so much. It was the same voice he'd heard earlier, the woman that had chatted him up just before the other homunculus had attacked. He tried to focus on what she was saying, vaguely aware of the sounds of crying from inside the room as well.

There was a short series of clanking sounds followed by another familiar voice. "Stand up Lieutenant," Alphonse commanded, softly but firmly. "You need to get out of here."

"Do you want me to kill you first?" the female voice spoke again, Sam envisioning a snake as it hissed upon an enemy's advance.

There was the sound of hands clapping together, and the unmistakable soft whine of a transmutation. Al must be transmuting some kind of weapon, and given the fact that his memories were now back, it meant that he didn't need a circle. At least they had some advantage, if anything else.

"Oh my," the female voice came again, "it appears you've opened the Portal."

_The Portal?_

"Not yet," Roy whispered next to Sam who had brought them just to the edge of the doorframe. Mustang braced himself against the wall, drawing in quiet breaths as he mustered what little strength he had left. Sam took the opportunity to peak around the corner in order to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

The room was large and white, with massive pipes that ran from floor to ceiling, even across the ceiling itself. The floor was made of large stone tiles, also white, and was littered with bits of debris just inside the doorway. Beyond them was a set of large double doors, with a strange design on the front that involved a series of colors and shapes as well as some language, Latin perhaps. From the looks of the design, Sam could only guess that it was alchemically based, a piece of the knowledge of alchemy carved in two massive stone doors. He didn't focus on them for too long, concerned as he was about his brother. But Dean was there, kneeling beside the Lieutenant who was on her knees, hands bracing the floor. The crying Sam had heard was obviously her doing, for she shook with wracking sobs.

Alphonse stood in front of them, his newly transmuted spear in hand, but he was given no chance to use it. The homunculus within the doorway, a dark-haired woman in a black dress, extended her fingers into five long spear-like appendages and sliced through the air at Al. The move shredded the tip of Al's weapon. He dropped it and backed up a step just as the homunculus struck again, this time her spear-like fingers buried themselves into Al's helmet and parts of his upper-torso area.

Sam glanced at Roy, "Homunculus. Creepy fingers. Female."

"That's the one that got me and Havoc," Mustang whispered, glancing at the doorway. He turned to face Sam with a serious look, "I'll walk in first. Keep a distance of about a foot behind me in case I need your support again."

"Such a shame," they heard the homunculus reply to Al, "you are a _perfect_ candidate." Sam could hear the sound of something sharp piercing metal, and could only guess that she'd struck Al again.

The Colonel straightened, placing a hand against the wall, the same hand that still held the lighter. He began to move towards the doorway, Sam remaining close behind.

"Listen Alphonse," Hawkeye's voice sounded broken and full of anguish. Though Sam had only just met her, she didn't seem the type to break down like this. "Leave me and save yourself."

Alphonse's voice sounded off with a firm "No!"

"Run!" Hawkeye's voice was cracking as she continued to sob.

"I won't!" Al responded with vehemence.

"Go!" Hawkeye yelled, sounding a bit more commanding this time.

"I won't leave you!" Al roared back passionately, just as Roy and Sam were entering the room and they could see the scene clearly. "I'm sick of watching people die! And I can't just sick back and take it anymore! I won't let anyone else get killed! Not while I can protect them!" He finished his speech just as the homunculus tore her appendages free of his armor, tearing off chunks of his helmet and arms. But he still remained as he was, the armored wall between the homunculus and his two friends. He refused to move.

But now it was Roy's turn.

"Well spoken. I couldn't agree more!"

There was a collective gasp around the room as they all turned to face the two of them, and Sam barely had a chance to yell out "Get down!" before Alphonse clapped his hands together to create a wall between his group and the homunculus and Mustang flicked the lighter.

There was a burst of flames that spread nearly from floor to ceiling, an explosion of heat larger than any Sam had ever witnessed. It swarmed around them in a suffocating mass, a storm of flames and smoke billowing around the room, the edges of it slithering across the surface of the wall Al had transmuted as a means of protection. Sam had to his squint his eyes against the heat, keeping just behind the Colonel as per request.

"Looks like I can get you on your knees after all!" Mustang all but snarled at the Homunculus as the flames died down, for she was indeed on her knees. The blast had knocked her down, scorching her skin to black, long tendrils of smoke spiraling upward from her wounds, red lights showing that she was attempting to regenerate herself. Roy flicked the lighter again and another burst of flames erupted all around her.

"You should've bled to death by now!" she shrieked at him accusingly, the flames whipping around her long raven hair.

"I seared the wound closed," Roy explained in a menacing tone, his left hand pressed against his injured side. "I came close to passing out from the pain." He flicked the lighter again.

She cried out in pain, not even attempting to defend herself against the assault, the flames raging on.

"You told me I couldn't kill you," Roy said in response to her screams. "But I'd like to try and prove you wrong!" He flicked the lighter again, this time the force of the flames knocked her back on her feet. "So let's see! How many times is it going to take!"

She wobbled around on her feet, landing face-first against Al's stone wall, just as another burst of flames scorched her. Sam came close to chastising him for bringing the fire that close to the trio behind the wall, but he had to trust that Mustang knew what he was doing. From behind the wall he could hear Hawkeye's frantic "Colonel! NO!" over the roar of the flames. The Colonel continued his assault on the homunculus, sending wave after wave of fire, burning her endlessly. He held no remorse for her screaming, focused intently on destroying her. She continued to screech in pain, but for the few seconds after the flames of the most recent blast began to die down, she took the opportunity to launch an attack. Racing forward with a scream of rage she extended her fingers into long spear-like appendages, one aiming directly for Roy's forehead. He wasn't thwarted by her attack, he calmly flicked the lighter again, creating a rotating sphere of flames that swarm all around her. The flames lasted for a few seconds before immediately snuffing out, leaving behind several columns of smoke that rose towards the ceiling. The homunculus remained in a crouched position, one spear-finger almost touching Roy's face, the stirred air ruffling her dark hair.

Sam could see her clearly now, even though most of her body was now scorched to blackness and parts of her skin revealed the muscle tissue beneath. She had pale skin and purple eyes, a long strapless black dress and long dark boots. She had the unmistakable Ouroborus tattoo on her chest, but that was about all he was able to discern before her body began to break down and turn to dust.

"You killed me," her voice was soft, "I hate losing. But there are worse ways to die than at the hands of a man like you." She seemed rather content with her fate as her body deconstructed itself, she noted the look on Roy's face, "I love how cold and focused your eyes are." She leaned her head back, lowering her limbs, as though accepting defeat. "I look forward to the day that those eyes will be wide with agony." Her body was now completely dust, the tiny pieces floating away into nothing as she disappeared. Only her voice remained behind, but that too was quickly fading away as it spoke, "It's coming…..it's coming….." A red stone fell softly to the floor where she once stood, it too turned to dust and floated away into nothing. She was gone.

Sam and Roy continued to watch her fatal departure, the Colonel swaying lightly on his feet before his legs finally gave out and Sam immediately made a grab for him. Given the fact that he had no true way of catching him they way he needed to, he was left with only the option of slowing the man's fall and lowering him gently to the floor. Sam supported the Colonel's shoulders with his left arm, one of his knees also a means of support against Mustang's back. There came a scurrying noise as the trio emerged from behind the wall, racing toward them.

"Colonel!" Hawkeye fell to her knees at her superior's side, Dean and Al were on her heels, Al falling to his knees as well but Dean remained standing. His attention was focused on his brother.

Sam gave him a knowing look and nodded as if to silently say _I'm okay_. Dean returned the nod, but the exchange did nothing to erase the worried expression he had.

Mustang gave a half-smile of reassurance as he looked at his Lieutenant, "Are you all right?"

"Forget about me we need to get you some help!" The Lieutenant sounded almost frantic as she spoke.

Mustang didn't respond to the suggestion, but rather turned to face Al with a look of gratitude. "Thanks Alphonse. Thank you for looking after my subordinate."

"Yeah sure," Al replied in modest, but he was quickly serious. "We need to call you a doctor!"

"Oh yeah," Mustang's voice was growing softer. He really needed to rest. "Hurry. Call a doctor for Havoc…and Sam…please."

"What about Sam? What's wrong?" Dean came to his knees at his brother's side but Sam quickly shook his head.

"I'm fine Dean, just a broken arm," he gingerly raised his right hand, closed in a fist, as though to emphasize the injury.

Mustang glanced over at Dean to explain, "Sam here was in need of my assistance. I believe there was a second homunculus, the same one I torched off of the tower earlier today." He turned to face Sam, a touch of pride in his expression, "Thank you for your help Sam."

"No man," Sam shook his head again, "you're the one that saved my ass. Fat-Boy almost had me for dinner."

Mustang chuckled in response, but the sound immediately turned into a series of tiny coughs.

"We should really get you out of here, and find Havoc," Dean urged them all, getting to his feet. He helped Sam pull Mustang to his feet as well, Sam being sure to use only his left arm. The group began making there way towards the door, Al and the Lieutenant acting as guards minus their weapons.

They were just reaching the doorway when Sam once again spotted the debris on the floor. A closer look revealed they were bits of metal and cloth, and what looked like the remains of a helmet. "What happened here?" he asked, nodding towards the mess.

"Well," Dean explained, his voice slightly grim. "That used to be the armored Barry the Chopper."

_****NS****_

The trip out of the Third Lab took longer than they'd originally anticipated. What with Al trying desperately to help Dean carry Havoc regardless that his armor was damaged, Sam was doing his best (despite his broken arm) to help support Mustang as he shuffled along, wincing all the way. The younger Winchester tried in vain to half-carry, half-drag the Colonel, using his left arm as much as humanly possible, but he could feel a muscle-cramp in the making. Roy was trying his best to support his own weight, but he was exhausted and weak, the fight with that Homunculus had drained him of most of his energy. At this point he was running on fumes, panting heavily and grunting each time his body twisted at an angle, tugging at the seared wound on his left side.

How he'd managed to sear the wound, come to Sam's rescue, _and_ fight off a Homunculus was a complete mystery. The man had guts that was for certain, and Sam couldn't help but respect the man, though he barely knew him. From what Al had told him, Ed and the Colonel didn't exactly see eye-to-eye, and often fought with each other because of that. Ed made the Colonel out to be some arrogant and morally bankrupt man with a political agenda who was hoping to get to the top of the ranks sooner or later. As far as Sam was concerned, the Colonel was simply doing his job as any man of rank would, making sure to keep things in check and so forth. Since Ed had such an issue with authority, particularly the authority of an older military official, it was to be expected that he would find it difficult to get along with them. He was still just a kid after all, a child-soldier amongst experienced war-heroes and leaders. With Ed's child-like tendencies, it was a wonder the Colonel could handle him, given the fact that Ed was prone to spastic outbursts on a regular basis.

Al on the other hand appeared to be a different story. He showed tremendous respect for his superiors based on what Sam could make of it. In fact that sort of attitude seemed to apply to anyone on the face of this (alternate) planet for that matter, which included the alien hunters as well. Al had shown nothing but respect to Sam and the others from the moment they met, not once had he displayed any level of animosity or distrust. In some ways this bit of his character made Al the oldest of the two, the one willingly accepting of other people despite their rank or background. Al himself was childlike in his own way, but it was that innocence that comes with childhood, something he hadn't quite grown out of despite what he'd been through. The kid had every right to be angry at the world, and in some ways so did Ed, they'd been dealt a harsh life. Yet Al was the one deserving the privilege of anger towards the cards they'd been dealt more-so than Ed, after all Al was the one stuck in a suit of armor. And yet he seemed to be at peace with his, but only to a certain degree. He still wanted his original body back after all.

It was an amazing thing. Ed was in so many ways a lot like Dean, and Al was more or less the same as Sam. Not simply because of the soul issue. It was more than that.

In fact, it was like they'd been placed here to find these two, their metaphorical alternate-universe doppelgangers.

"That's it right?"

Sam looked over to glance at Dean, nodding towards a set of iron double doors, light pouring in through the holes in the metal and spilling out into the darkened hallway. Yep, this was the way they'd come in alright, it was the first bit of light they'd seen in a while since leaving the White Room. Hawkeye moved first, Sam having allowed her to use his extra Glock, hers having run out of ammunition after shooting the Homunculus. Dean on the other hand preferred to keep his extra weapon at close hand just in case he needed it. That and he simply didn't want Hawkeye to have it.

She made quick work of surveying their surroundings, gun trained in the same direction as her watchful eyes, hawk's eyes. She was no longer crying, far from it, she'd left her tears behind at the place she'd been on her knees. Hawkeye was back in trained marksman mode, armed and ready for whatever attack came next. After all she now had her superior back, and her number one priority was his safety, meaning Sam's safety at the time was also her priority since he was helping to carry the Colonel along. She used her back to push open one of the doors, gun at the ready, pointed towards the ceiling. Sam and Mustang shuffled through it first, turning sideways, Sam's left arm under the Colonel's as he supported the man's back. Al and Dean had it a little more difficult, considering that Havoc was unconscious, had been from the moment they'd found him in that room. The two of them were each carrying one end of him, Dean had Havoc's upper torso area while Al tried to carry Havoc's legs with his good arm. When he'd previously tried to help lift the 2nd Lieutenant using both of his arms, the right one had fallen off.

That Homunculus had struck Al twice, tearing off bits of his arms and helmet piece, basically his "face". Consequently his armor was now on the verge of falling apart in some areas, both strikes having caused some internal damage as well as external. Sam could only deduce that both blows had severed some of the joints involved with his right arm, and if he tried to do _too_ much with it, it would fall off for good. Or at least until Ed could fix it,. According to Al his brother was the only one who knew how to transmute around the seal inside his armor without harming it in any way. Sam felt better with this knowledge at hand, he would've been too worried about having to fix Al in the first place what with his mediocre skills. He sure as hell wasn't going to attempt it if doing so meant he was risking Al's soul.

Sam glanced back at the three of them, Hawkeye having moved ahead of the group the moment the trio had cleared the doorway. Dean wasn't doing too bad, seemingly, despite the blood on his face. Sam would have to ask him later about what had happened to him, and he himself would have some explaining to do. In fact they _all_ needed to have some kind of discussion, particularly about what had happened in the White Room. For starters, there was the incident with the Homunculus with the freaky fingers.

"_You told me I couldn't kill you. But I'd like to try and prove you wrong!"_

So the Homunculi were not as invincible as they made out to be after all. Mustang had torched that Homunculus until she'd turned to dust, not only that but it had required several blasts of his flames before she eventually died. There was also the incident with Blubber Boy Homunculus, the flames had worked on him too, but he'd sprinted away before Mustang could finish the job. The Colonel had been too preoccupied with finding his subordinate to focus on the big guy, not to mention neither of them had been in any condition to chase him down. At least for now they knew, should they ever cross paths with the big guy again, Mustang would be a good weapon to have at hand. Sam partly wished he had a pair of the Colonel's gloves as well as a fraction of knowledge in regards to Flame Alchemy. They'd torched several corpses in the past, not to mention they'd used fire against various monsters, so pyromania was almost second nature to them. He wondered how difficult it would be to learn about it.

"We need an emergency medical transport vehicle and two stretchers!" Hawkeye was barking out orders to the lab-coated officials scurrying about to make room for the injured group making their way down the hall. Soldiers were on the move, a few off to handle phone calls to the hospital, some overseeing the task of locating gurneys for both Mustang and Havoc. When they'd found the 2nd Lieutenant back in that room, based on Sam's survey of the scene and Mustang's weakened recap, it was easy to discern that Havoc was quite possibly paralyzed. A wound like that, so close to the spinal-cord, could only result in paralysis, or simply loss of some muscle use from the waist down. Sam had not wanted to voice his concerns at the time, nor did he wish to do so now, there was too much strain on everyone at the moment and adding to it wouldn't help. They needed medical attention and fast. Sam's arm may not be usable at the moment, but it certainly was of no mind to allow him to forget he was injured, pain flaring up every time he jostled it in the slightest way.

The employees and soldiers at the Third Lab made quick work of assembling two medical transport vehicles, as well as providing some medical assistance while the group waited for their convoy to arrive. These may be researchers but they were also, to a degree, doctors. They could provide some medical help, as much as they were capable of at the very least, despite not having the exact tools required for such injuries. The moment the cars arrived Sam, Dean and Hawkeye worked together to help the medical transport team load both the Colonel and the 2nd Lieutenant safely into each car. Hawkeye obviously wanted to ride with the Colonel, and there was no room for either Sam, Dean or Al to ride with Havoc. But Sam still needed to get to the hospital himself, and luckily they had their car parked nearby.

This was going to be, yet another, long night on their list of longest nights.

_****NS****_

"What's wrong with you?" Envy screeched with fury, gesticulating in Wrath's direction. "How could you let that bastard go after what he did? You should've yanked his spine out of his mouth!"

The object of his anger stood at the bottom of a set of stone steps that eventually turned downward to another set of steps, located in the same darkened room with dim lighting that once became the execution grounds for Greed. As always there were pipes running along the walls, floor and ceiling, with massively-sized gears hanging here and there. Envy stood a few steps above Wrath, with Gluttony slumped a few steps up from him. The fatter Homunculus was crying softly to himself, murmuring the name "Lust", having just lost the closest being he'd ever had to a true family. "He killed Lust!" he wept to himself.

"It's not too late to kill him!" Envy went on, ignoring Gluttony's despair for the time being. "So let's get to it!" He was furious at the loss of one of their own, though his anger stemmed more from the fact that a human had bested a Homunculus, an allegedly invincible being. Envy's passionate anger was not a symptom of grieving by any means.

"We can use Mustang," Wrath had his hands clasped behind his back, a look of silent fury on his angular face. "He's worthless if we kill him however."

"Use him?" Envy instantly sobered from his rage. "Hold on, you mean the Portal?"

Wrath chuckled, "You don't need to worry about him. And forget Mustang. Father wants _me_ to handle him."

Envy snorted, "That's well and good, but what about those two hunters? Gluttony didn't stand a chance of stopping either of them before Mustang tried to kill him!"

Wrath seemed to think for a moment, "Those two are becoming even more trouble than they're worth."

"So what are you thinking?" Envy folded his slender arms and frowned. "We went after the old man but it appears we've only pushed them further into snooping around."

"We?" Wrath chuckled again, turning his head slightly to the right so as to glare at Envy with his uncovered eye. "If I recall it was by your suggestion that we release Barry's body loose into Central in order to attack the old man. And it appears your little scheme has backfired. They're even more suspicious now."

"So _what_ if things didn't go to plan?" Envy placed a hand on his chest, feigning innocence.

Wrath looked away from him, but his voice was proof that his glaring expression had not changed. "You think this is some sort of game, and these humans are the pawns, easily manipulated and cowed." He turned to face him just then, more serious than before, "But what you fail to realize is what these hunters are capable of. Giving Maria Ross to Mustang did no good, neither did your attempts to throw those two boys off course by having a condemned prisoner's body attack their friend. You can't quite seem to grasp the concept that revenge is all they are going to focus on from this point forward."

Gluttony gave a half-snarl mixed with a whimper at that, but said nothing.

"Given that fact," Wrath continued with his little speech, "it is safe to assume that no level of death in either of their families or group of friends is going to sway them from their chosen path of investigation and tireless quest for vengeance. And taking revenge against them will only disrupt Father's plans. Or has your juvenile delinquency failed to realize how much of a risk you took on Father's work with your little schemes in the first place?"

Envy snarled, "And what have _you _done besides act as their little friend? Paying them visits at the hospital and in Dublith does not count as 'handling it'."

"You would think so," Wrath replied mockingly, "but it is by _my_ orders that those Winchesters were allowed passage into the Library. I've been keeping an eye on the two of them as I was told. I _have_ been 'handling it'. In fact I'm arrogant enough to say that I've been 'handling it' better than you ever could were you in my place and I in _yours_."

Envy gaped at him, "You _let _them have access to all that research?"

"It was on Father's orders," Wrath explained, a touch of pride in his voice. "Please do not forget who it is you are serving Envy. It would not suit you to go against Father's plans."

"You accuse me of forgetting exactly what they _are_," Envy seethed. "And yet _you're_ the one allowing them access to information they could use against us!"

"We need them to be prepared," Wrath pointed out calmly. "They are an important part of this story after all."

_****NS****_

In the days following the incident at the Third Lab, the hours seemed to blur together as Sam and Dean wafted from one location to another. It appeared that hospitals would soon outrank alleyways in terms of which locations they paid the most visits too. The Winchesters spent some quality time with a couple of doctors, though not in the way Dean had been hoping, his own turned out to be male and refused to put up with any nonsense. He'd demanded that Dean shut up and allow him to stitch the wound on his head, a result of his tussle with the fat Homunculus slamming him against the wall.

"It came at me again and I was too dizzy to fight it off," Dean explained finally when they'd been left to themselves. "Tried to punch him or something but he was gone. That's when I knew he must've gone after you."

They were in a double-bed room, with the same design as every other room they'd ever visited these past few months. Dean had specific orders to chill out and avoid moving around too much, they feared he might have a slight concussion from the blow, but Sam's greatest fear was whether or not the injury had affected the part of Dean's brain that dealt with his sense of humor.

"I haven't felt that dizzy since I drank fourteen shots of Tequila and this waitress got me to dance on her coffee table wearing a Hula skirt," he replied jokingly.

Sam huffed inwardly. Nope. He still wasn't funny.

"So then what?" He asked his brother, absent-mindedly rubbing a hand against his cast.

The nurses had chastised him for using the arm while broken to help carry Mustang in, arguing at him later that the bone had snapped clean in two. The cause of all the pain had been the fact that the bone had rolled and twisted around as he moved the arm, the angle of the break was at a degree where even the slightest jostle disturbed the injury. X-rays revealed in exact detail just how bad it was, and how Sam was lucky that there weren't any splinters to irritate his arm muscles and worsen the injury any further. It had taken a while but they'd managed to move the arm around enough, and sedate him enough, to get the bones back into place before fitting him with a cast.

It had been years since the last time he'd worn a cast. He had to keep brushing a hand against it in order to remind himself that it was actually there and not something his tired mind cooked up.

"I went looking for you," Dean continued explaining, "but there were too many damn hallways and eventually I ran into the Elric kid and that Hawkeye chick." Dean whistled, "She's a pistol isn't she? I'd hate to piss her off. Ever." Despite that he was obviously intimidated by the Lieutenant, there was a gleam in his eyes that Sam recognized. The kind that only appeared when he was attracted to a woman.

Sam scoffed. It would be just their luck if Dean did something stupid that put them on the Lieutenant's bad side.

"What happened with you?" Dean asked him, instantly serious. He nodded towards the cast, "You didn't get that from tripping over your big feet, I know that much."

Ignoring the subtle Sasquatch jab, Sam explained to him about the fat Homunculus attacking him, how the Colonel had saved his life, and how they both had worked together in order to locate the rest of the group. He went as far as to attempt replaying the dialogue he'd exchanged with the female Homunculus, and how she and her little immortal friends were seemingly familiar with them in more ways than they'd believed. But he didn't know how.

"They know what we are?" Dean asked him, forehead creased with incredulity. "How the hell do they know anything about us? It's not like there was some damn Supernatural Convention _here_ or anything." He paused, "Aw crap. I bet there was a convention here. Becky seems to be intimidating enough to get her way across alternate dimensions anyhow."

"C. S. Lewis wouldn't touch that one," Sam replied jokingly, swinging his legs around on his bed to face his brother. "I don't know how they know. Maybe they were expecting us. Maybe….."

"Maybe….." Dean sat up. "They're the ones that set us up with all this money and the house."

"But why?" Sam pointed out. "Why go through all the trouble to give us resources if they keep trying to kill us?"

"I'm not saying it makes any sense," Dean interjected. "But I can't think of anything else Sam. We're stuck here with no knowledge as to what we're supposed to do or how we even got here. And these damn Homunculi assholes seem to know something about us. You're telling me that it's not possible _they're _the reason why were here at all?"

"I hope like hell they're not," Sam replied, sighing heavily. "How would they even accomplish that in the first place?"

"Didn't you hear what the girl-Homunculus said back in that white room?" Dean snapped his fingers as he tried to recall her name. "What did you say she was called…..Sally?"

"Solaris," Sam answered him, inwardly rolling his eyes at his brother's tendency to forget a new girl's name. "What about her?"

"She mentioned something about a Portal," Dean reminded him, "and that Al had obviously had access to it. She only said that because Al transmuted something without a circle."

"And the only way to do that is to have been exposed to the Truth," Sam finished for him.

"Bingo," Dean jabbed a finger in his direction, grinning. "This Portal thing and the Truth are one and the same. And if these Homunculi know something about it than obviously they know how it works."

"So you think they have access to it? Just like that?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, shaking his head. "But one thing's for sure, I want to know more about it."

Sam was silent for a moment, glancing at the tray of food on the table between their beds. "You think that's our way back? Home I mean."

"Maybe," Dean shrugged. "It's worth looking into."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, not looking at him as he did so. "Maybe."

At that moment, a familiar set of alchemists opened the door, the shorter one stepping a few feet inside so that his brother could enter the room just inside the doorway. Al was whole again, which was a promising sight considering all that had occurred recently. Though Sam was glad Al was back in one piece again, it did nothing to lift his sour mood for he was incapable of healing that fast. A broken arm was no picnic when you had a job like his.

"You two planning on moving in to this hospital?" Ed folded his arms, a smug grin on his newly tanned face. "With as much time as you spend here you'd think you didn't actually have a pink house to go home to."

"Don't forget Elric, you're right up there with us," Dean pointed out with a grin of his own. "Exactly how many times have _you_ been in here lately?"

"So-so," Ed waved at him, for once he seemed almost….content. He didn't even appear the slightest bit irritated at Dean's remark.

"What you two doing here anyway?" Sam interjected, just in case the conversation _did_ escalate in that direction after all. "Paying a visit to the Colonel?"

"Well that's on our list for sure," Al replied, hands folded in front of him. "I wanted to pay my respects to him, he saved my life." He turned to glance at Sam, "And I suppose I owe you thanks as well Sam, you did help him."

Sam gave a half-smile and waved him off with his good arm, "No problem Al, you would've done the same for me."

Ed's grin started to fade, "We also wanted to talk with the two of you about something important."

"Us?" Dean scoffed, chuckling. "Al I get, but you? I thought you hated us."

"Not so much now," Ed replied casually, "you're not entirely useless."

Sam almost laughed, and Dean merely arched both eyebrows with a sarcastic "Good to know."

The corner of Ed's mouth lifted the tiniest bit upon that reaction, "So you got a minute?"

Actually they had several, which eventually turned into a full hour, leading up to the Elric's eventual seating arrangements on either bed alongside the Winchesters. Ed explained all that he'd found out recently on his journey to the ruins of Xerxes. There was also the things he found out while visiting Risembool, but the more astonishing part was the fact that their father had been there. However there were more important things to discuss, so neither of the Winchesters pried any further on the subject of absent-fathers suddenly turning up. They'd been down that road before so they knew what it was like.

"So you think your body is connected with Al's?" Sam inquired bemusedly, wondering if they needed to renegotiate the exact location of the line between their kind of crazy and what was beyond their comprehension of the weird.

Edward nodded, "His body must still be inside the Portal. I'm thinking that maybe the connection between the two of us is a result of our spirits mixing during the deconstruction after we did the transmutation on mom. Somehow our bodies became connected, so that leads me to believe that Al's body is still alive and waiting. If I can pull his soul out, I should be able to get the rest of him too."

"About this Portal thing," Dean asked, more serious with Ed than he'd ever been. "I'm guessing it's not just some information-center anymore. You can literally pass through it right?"

"What are you getting at?" Al leaned forward where he sat next to Dean.

"Well I mean it's obvious isn't it?" Dean splayed both hands as a form of gesturing. "It's a Portal, something used to travel, sometimes between worlds. Sam and I are from a universe that's different from this one. So there's a chance we passed through it to get here."

Ed quirked an eyebrow at that, "How?"

"We don't know," Sam explained. "But there's a chance the Homunculi might."

"I'm starting to think the same thing," Ed replied, his grin returning.

"You two should come with us when we see the Colonel," Al suggested, glancing between the Winchesters.

"Do we have to bring him flowers?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not unless he's allergic to them," Ed replied sarcastically.

_****NS****_

"I counted the number of steps it took to get to the basement under the Third Laboratory," Hawkeye explained. "And I was able to calculate the approximate location of that doorway. It's not exact since the hallway curved, but I managed to deduce a radius with the Lab at the center". She pointed at the map on Mustang's lap, showing a layout of the city, with a large circle drawn around a particular section.

Mustang and Havoc, like Sam and Dean, had their own double-bed room. Both men were clad in hospital clothes, each with their own IV stand next their beds, but only Havoc seemed to in full use of his. Havoc was lying casually on his bed, lit cigarette in his mouth, staring blankly out the window. Mustang had his legs swung over the side of his own bed, map in hand, examining the location Hawkeye had pointed out. She was in full uniform now, and as stoic and professional as could be possible for a soldier.

"That's Central Command," Ed pointed out, noticing what else was located at the center of the circle. "But this is even more alarming."

"It's the presidential estate," Al added in. "Right above where we found the Homunculi."

"Presidential estate?" Sam frowned, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against a wall. "You mean the Fuhrer's house?" to which Al nodded in response.

"Which means there's a very real possibility the Fuhrer is connected to them," Mustang replied, scanning the map as he spoke.

"But that doesn't make sense," Al interjected. "Why did he kill Greed and his group if he's connected to them?"

"It's strange he killed them anyway," Ed pointed out, placing a half-closed hand against his chin in a thoughtful pose. "Why would he slaughter them before interrogating them?"

"Maybe he was trying to shut them up," Sam suggested in a neutral tone. "If he's involved in what's going on he wouldn't want a rogue Homunculus causing problems after all."

"It's strange all right," Mustang replied, forehead creased in concentration. "Damn inscrutable. One thing's for sure, the enemy's infiltrated high up the command. So extreme caution is necessary at all times. And Fullmetal," he glanced at Edward with a warning look, "watch yourself."

Edward appeared taken aback by the order, though it was more or less crucial advice on the Colonel's part. Sam supposed Ed had expected the Colonel to make some remark about Ed's lack of sensibility in dealing with certain fiascos. Though Ed didn't retort, he certainly looked as though he could've.

"What do you want us to do?" Dean queried the Colonel, glancing at him from where he sat at the end of Mustang's bed. He'd been examining the map as well, helping to note significant locations that were involved in this mysterious scheme.

"I may need the both of you from time-to-time," Mustang replied casually, but with a underlying firmness suggesting that there would be no arguments. "It wouldn't hurt to have two sets of extra hands at the ready. However don't misunderstand me," he glanced at the two of them with a scrutinizing expression, "this is merely a method I plan to use in order to keep the two of you close by. I'll be watching you."

"We're back at that again huh?" Dean scoffed, "Only this time it's not the half-pint that's analyzing every move we make."

"Shut up!" Edward spazzed at him, glaring.

"We'll need Sam and Dean with us for now Colonel," Al pointed out, careful to address Mustang in a respectful manner. "They've been helping us with investigating this case, they're really a big help."

Mustang seemed to think for a moment before agreeing. "Very well. But please be aware that as long as they are with you, you are held responsible should they step out of line."

"No disrespect Colonel," Dean pointed out, arching one eyebrow at Mustang. "But I'm older than you are. I think I can take care of myself."

The Colonel glanced at the bandage on Dean's head and grinned, "If you say so."

Dean arched his other eyebrow and looked pointedly at Mustang's injured side, "I do say so." The Colonel took notice of where the man indicated and frowned, obviously ill-amused at being the center of a injury joke. Though Sam had to agree, Dean did fine in rough situations, he may get knocked around a bit but he always managed.

Edward glanced at them both, "You two should get some sleep."

Sam merely frowned at him but Dean couldn't resist retorting, "Get some sleep? I've got a nurse Fullmetal, a hot one at that, I don't need you lecturing me too."

"I thought you said you could take care of yourself?" Ed replied with a smug grin. "What happens if I call you for help and you pass out from exhaustion?"

Dean didn't respond beyond the dirtiest expression he could make, sending a fully-daggered look in the older Elric's direction, who merely shrugged as he continued to grin.

"You'll need your rest too Colonel," Al reminded his superior in a casual manner, but Sam could tell it more or less stemmed from concern.

"I'll be fine here, I have the Lieutenant," Mustang pointed out.

"Yeah I'll bet you do," Dean muttered quietly to himself, receiving a glare from the Colonel.

"It's getting late," Sam commented, noting the decrease in light from outside. "We should probably get going."

They said their goodbyes to the Colonel and Havoc, Sam making a point to wish them a full recovery, though as a means of an olive branch. He didn't want the Colonel's suspicions of himself and Dean to be bombarded with any level of dislike simply because Mustang seemingly rubbed Dean the wrong way.

Just like he rubbed Ed the wrong way. It must be the issue of authority, neither of them were fans of it.

Ed and Al excused the Winchesters for a moment as they paid a final visit to Bobby for the day. Sam snatched the duffel-bag from under his bed, and the four of them slipped out of the hospital before any nurses or doctors could stop them. Dean wasn't released yet, nor was Sam, but they had no patience for it at the time. They had work to do.

They walked mostly in silence, deciding at some point that they would split at the hotel. A decision that brought a frown to Edward's face, "Back to the pink house then?"

Dean shrugged, but Sam Answered, "It's rigged the way we need it to be. The Colonel basically said this whole thing has escalated to a point where we can't trust just anyone anymore."

"There's an extra room if either of you want to bunk down there," Dean offered in nonchalance, but Ed was already waving him off.

"We can't leave Winry by herself at the hotel," he explained. "And if things are as bad as the Colonel says then it's not safe for her to go anywhere for now."

"Bring her to our house," Sam suggested, thinking back on all the work they'd done to it. "We've got guns and knives hidden all over. Plus there's some protective symbols from our world on every ceiling and a majority of the walls. She should be safe there."

Edward frowned, though it wasn't due to irritation, but rather a sign that he was thinking seriously on the offer. "I'll have to think about it. Your house isn't much safer than the hotel, but it can't be any worse." He glanced off into the distance as they walked, "Though to be honest I'd feel better if she was somewhere safe. This whole thing leads back to Central Command, and anyone in Central could be affected by it. As long as she's here, she's not safe. It doesn't matter where she stays."

"Well you know where to find us if you need anything," Sam reminded him, handing him a folded piece of paper. It was their house number, he'd had to sneak into one of the records rooms at the hospital in order to get it from their insurance file.

Edward took the paper, glanced at it and nodded. "Sure thing."

"Be careful," Al told the two of them as he waved them off, the four alchemists parting ways as the Elric's went into the hotel and the Winchester's continued on their way back to the Pink House.

"Oh sure Sam, invite a teenage girl to stay at our house for her own safety like the gentleman you are," Dean teased him.

"Upstairs-brain Dean," Sam reminded him, scoffing. "Our house would be a hell-of-a-lot safer than some public hotel that could be under surveillance."

"And that's why we're heading back to the Puke House?" Dean glanced at him sideways, fists jammed into his jacket pockets. The evening chill was beginning to settle on the city. "You think they might have us under watch at the hotel?"

"It's a public building isn't it?" Sam pointed out. "If this whole thing is military-oriented than any one of the buildings in this city could be under surveillance right now."

"I think I'm starting to appreciate that house a little more," Dean admitted in a disgusted tone. "Even if it does make me want to blow my brains out."

"It's not _that_ bad," Sam said defensively.

"Pink Sam. It's fucking _pink!_" Dean snorted, shaking his head. "Let's at least change the wall color okay? We can put the Traps back on as soon as we're done."

Sam nodded, not wanting to argue any further, though he did agree that at least some of the pinkness needed to go. He'd like for ALL of it to be gone quite frankly, but he'd settle for losing the pink on the walls if that was the only card they were to be dealt at this time. Plus it's not like they couldn't use alchemy to do it, all they needed was to figure out the exact components needed to change the color…or they could just buy a different color and transmute it from the cans and onto the walls. That would be easier.

"Did you leave the door open when we left Lior?" Dean was pointing at the front entrance of the monstrosity known as the Pink House, where the front door stood slightly ajar.

Both boys exchanged glances before reaching into their jackets to pull our their semi-automatics, sneaking towards the back of the house. They kept their guns at the ready, surveying other possible signs of breaking and entering, though aside from the front door none could be found. They came around towards the front again, using their learned skills based on what dad had taught them from his time in the Marine Corps, angling their bodies in such a manner so as to avoid being a target at all costs. Dean went in first, keeping his gun trained ahead of him, pointing it in all directions as he examined the interior. Aside from their little episode with the Elric's once-upon-a-few-weeks-ago, there were no visible signs of damage from an unknown intruder. There were still holes in the floor from when Ed had attacked them, and the furniture was all over the place as it had been on that day. Nothing seemed out of place. Not one thing.

"But the door was jammed when we left," Sam pointed out, closing the door behind him. Dean was coming back from the hallway, having just examined each room.

"Nothing out of place," he told Sam, stuffing his gun back into his jacket. "All the knives and guns are still where they should be. Booze is still in the cabinet. Weird."

"Tell me about it," Sam allowed the duffel-bag to fall to the floor with a heavy thud before strolling to the kitchen. "I'm going to need a drink for this."

"Great minds _do_ think alike after all," Dean replied in agreement, allowing Sam to begin preparing two glasses for whiskey when a voice from what was left of the living room startled them both.

"You two dillholes are borderline useless you know that?"

Both boys spun around at the same time to face the stranger, Sam nearly dropping the bottle of Jack Daniels as he did so. That voice…..it couldn't be…..

But it was. Residing on their newly righted-up couch, booted feet resting on the newly righted-up coffee table was a man. He was short, about five-foot-six or so, with long brown hair that reached past his ears. His eyes were green and twinkled with a mischievous glint that went well with the playful grin on his face. He wore blue-jeans, a button-up shirt that was striped, and a dark brown jacket. He was lounging on the couch with a glass of what appeared to be the same whiskey Sam had been on the verge of pouring for himself and Dean.

It had been over two years since the last time they saw him, and he hadn't changed one damn bit. Both boys gaped at him, eyes wide, and replied in perfect synchronization.

"_Gabriel?_"


	17. Radioactive

"Well, well, well," Gabriel swung his legs to the floor, rising to his feet and semi-circling the table as he approached the Winchesters. "Sam and Dean. Seems like only yesterday I was taking an angel sword for you two yutzes. So what'd I miss?"

The boys continued to stare at him, dumbfounded at the site of the once-believed-to-be-dead archangel Gabriel. The same angel that had repeatedly murdered, then resurrected, then murdered Dean over and over again. The very same angel that had died helping them escape from Lucifer. The status of "angel" did not quite suit him, he was more of a Trickster at heart than anything even remotely celestial. It was beyond any comprehendable level of insane that he should be here, now, alive and well, as though nothing had ever happened, as though he'd never been touched.

How slippery _was_ this guy anyway?

"I see you've slipped into silent, drooling caveman mode," Gabe chuckled, green eyes twinkling. "Should I come back later when you've had time to think of a response?"

"How..." Dean was the first to speak, but he was still verbally stunted at the moment,"...the _hell_...?"

"The power of clonage my friend," Gabriel moved past them to the kitchen, reaching for the very same booze Sam had been on the verge of accessing mere moments ago. "The last night we spoke...and I had Luci's ginormous snoze sniffing me out...I discovered something." He poured himself a glass, tested a sip, then took a big gulp, sucking a breath of air through his teeth when the kick came. "I discovered that my brother, the clever little rebellious sucker that he is, had yet to grasp the possibility...that I could've learned a way to out-smart him and his many ways of deceit." He snapped a barstool out of thin air and proceeded to sit upon it, one elbow resting against the counter that seperated the kitchen from the living room. "It didn't take much really, a few special effects for the wing-y angel burn out moment of death, my charming good looks to add icing to the cake, and the cherry on top?" He guffawed, "My stunned and hurtful expression. It was a moment of pure genius, he fell for it hook-line-and-sinker, I should get an Oscar, really." He continued sipping his drink, making small hissing noises each time the booze gave a kick, watching the Winchesters with amusement and a touch of curiousity.

"You mean to tell me that you've been alive this _whole damn time_?" Dean's eyebrows were so furrowed they looked like a bridge that had collapsed on his face. Judging by his expression he was equally as hurt and pissed off as Sam was upon finding out that one of their comrades had practically ditched them for two years. "Why didn't you tell us you were still kicking?"

"Have you learned _anything_ from our short periods of time together Dean?" Gabriel sat down his drink and leaned forward to rest both elbows on the counter, hands clasped together. "It's not easy keeping a low profile when the two of you are part of the line-up of groupies trying to find me. Not to mention I don't want to be the booty on the angel ship okay?"

"Do you have _any idea _what went down after you left?" It was Sam's turn to speak, and he chose to address Gabriel with a touch of scorn.

"I've kept tabs over the years," Gabriel replied, the smirk slipping from his face at the sound of Sam's accusatory tone, "I know you took the plunge with Michael and Lucifer."

Sam was silent at those words, the memories were still too fresh and painful, he didn't want to breathe any more life into them.

"I know Cas has gone off the deep end...working with this Crowley guy. Head honcho demon of Hell with a contract in every nook and cranny of his sleazy host body waiting for a kiss and a decade to pass." Gabriel straightened up, his hands sliding into his lap, eyes cast downward as though he were ashamed of something, "and I heard about what Castiel did...or rather...I saw what happened."

"Saw? How much?" Dean asked, leaning forward to rest on his elbows against the countertop. Sam semi-copied the gester, but chose to lean against the surface with his hands, palms down.

"I saw him snort about a half-million souls from Purgatory, turn Rafael into angel-jam, then he turned the soul-powered guns on the three of you." His green eyes turned to Dean, "How's the old man?"

Dean straightened upward into a standing position, "He'll be okay." His lack of enthusiasm to discuss the incident with Bobby left the other two to realize that no more was needed to be said regarding the subject, so they allowed the moment of respectful silence to pass before Sam openly approached a new topic.

"How is it that you saw anything?" He straightened up as well, shifting his weight around on his feet. "I mean can't angels sense other angels? It's not like you guys can just sneak up on each other."

"Ah yes..._that part _is underway in this conversation then huh?" Gabriel leaned backward, lounging against a back part of the barstool that suddenly materialized. "Do you guys know where you are?"

"Area 51: Extended Edition?" Dean shot back, losing his patience. "Why don't _you_ tell us? I mean it is your fault that we're here in the first place isn't that right?"

The thought had crossed Sam's mind here and there, that one of the angels had been involved in their sudden landing in some strange new world, but the idea that _Gabriel_ was behind it had not been a thought worth pondering. Of course that was before the boys had found out that he'd faked his death...again.

"True and true," Gabriel swiveled in his seat to prop his booted feet on the counter. "But you have to answer a few in order to ask a few. Kind of like an interactive discussion in high school, so...tell me...where are we?"

Sam and Dean exhanged a knowing look, should they play along with Gabriel's little game? Almost immediately the silent-yet-mutual answer of yes occurred, after all this couldn't be any worst than TV-land.

"Amestris," Sam was the one to answer the first question, "in an alternate universe with alchemy and an early 20th century charm."

"Good so far," Gabriel stared pointedly at Sam, "now...what exactly _is _this world?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked, but Gabriel held up a hand to silence him before beckoning Sam to continue.

"It's...an anime," Sam thought back to the symbol on Ed's jacket and how he'd reckonized it from somewhere. He suddenly thought about one of his old college buddies, a guy that had been quite the Japanese cartoon fan. He'd called it anime, and he'd owned quite a collection of DVD's of various series featuring animate characters, some of them with other-worldly abilities. Where was Gabriel going with this?

"Anime?" Dean scoffed, "I didn't think you got into cartoons Sammy."

"I like certain animated shows, yes, I just don't get into cartoon smut like you," Sam shot back.

"Alright, so which anime then?" Dean was in need of jumping off the smutty anime tangent and Sam was all too willing to oblige.

"_Fullmetal Alchemist_," he replied, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular as he allowed his mind to wander through old college memories. "My buddy used to watch it, I never saw much of it, just bits and pieces...but I definitely remember that it was pure fiction, nothing else."

"So what does that tell you?" the archangel propped his hands together, the tips of his fingers touching, a thoughful expression on his face. "And please don't say TV-land, that was _so _two years ago."

Sam returned his gaze with a look of bemusement before replying, "The anime is real...that series is real...everyone in it...is real...here...but...how..?"

"That's the kicker caveman," Gabriel jumped to his feet, his calm nature quickly evolving to determined enthusiasm. "What does that tell you about our world? As far as our books and whatnot."

"You're saying that every story we've ever read...every fictional tale...is _real_? As in real on some other planet?" Dean didn't appear to be convinced of any of it.

"Kind of like in Thor," Gabriel explained, slightly pacing as he spoke. "Remember how there were all these books about Thor, the Bifrost and all that godly jazz? It's the same with our world. There are literally thousands upon _thousands _of different stories out there, with all of these different characters and places, that are just stories where we're from. But a quick hop-skip-and-a-jump and you're actually _in _the real world of these characters."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Sam chimed in, "how is it that we have so many stories about all of these other worlds? Do they have stories about us?"

"Earth is kind of the nucleus of it all," Gabriel replied, "these other worlds are clueless to our world. We get all the information, not the other way around. Well," he stopped to correct himself, "_technically _our world isn't supposed to know about these other worlds...and vice versa...but hey, shit happens."

"Could you pretend for two seconds that we're in the dark here? And that we have no damn clue about any of this crap?," a tiredness had begun to settle in on Dean. He straightened up and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, "We don't have time for games right now."

"Alright, alright," Gabriel sighed, "my turn to answer a few."

He reached for his mutant barstool, sat down, and proceeded to snap a pen and piece of paper into existence. He gave the pen a single twirl with his fingers before pressing it down onto the paper and drawing several circles, scattered all over the sheet, with one slightly larger circle directly in the center of them all. He drew short lines around the circles, curving slightly around the shapes, to emphasize the space between them. When he was done, he set his pen down and sat back, allowing Sam and Dean to look at it more clearly.

"Like I said, it's a lot like Thor," Gabriel pointed at the curvy-lined spaces between the circles. "You remember the Bifrost right? How it transported gods between worlds? Well in our case it's called the Portal."

_The Portal?...Wait..._

"No way" Sam whispered, unaware that he'd said it aloud until Gabriel replied.

"Oh yeah," the archangel gave a half smirk, "your little runt of an alchemist only scratched the surface. I can't imagine what would've happened if he'd managed to access it for real."

"What is the Portal exactly?" Dean crossed his arms across his chest, regarding Gabriel with a mixture of suspicion and confusion. "I thought it was like the biggest 411 to hit existence, bigger than Bing or Google could ever be you know?"

"Something like that," Gabriel picked up the pen and began to twirl it again. "It's a gateway between the worlds. And it's only supposed to be accessed by the angels."

"Angel gateway?" Sam frowned.

"What? D'you think my dear old dad was only scoping for lost souls on Earth? Pshh!" Gabriel began lounging again, pen still twirling absent-mindedly. "He has his hooks in quite a few fishing holes, our world being the best pond of them all mind you."

"I still don't get how all of this ties in to the storis-upon-stories thing," Dean pointed out.

"Well you know how the Portal works right? Based on Ed's perspective? All the information in the world was right there in front of him?" At their synchronized nod of confirmation he continued, "Each world consists of an invisible...shield of sorts...kind of like an extra layer of atmosphere, that surrounds the planet. This 'shield' is full of all the information regarding that particular world. It's how the angels are aware of the coming's and going's of the places they go to, because of that extra layer. The Portal holds all of that information, but only an angel can access it and not be affected. If a human tries to take a look...well...you've seen the consequences. It's not pretty. How do you think the Old Man can handle millions upon millions of lives that he's responsible for herding into his faith? The Portal has been around a helluva lot longer than Daddy, trust me on that. It's more powerful than He is, by a _long_ shot."

"And the stories?" Dean queried.

"Well the Portal thrives off the flow of information...and sometimes a flow will end up with a leak," Gabriel explained. "These leaks result in what we know as stories, books, movies and...every once in a while...a TV-show."

"How exactly do people get a hold of these ideas if only angels can access the Portal?" Sam queried, folding his arms across his chest as he eyed Gabriel suspiciously.

"That's where it gets...tricky," the archangel explained. "The 'how' behind it all is made up of one-part pure science in nature, and one-part supernatural. That 'extra layer' I mentioned? Like another layer of atmosphere? It has a sort of...physical presence...when it rains part of its physical state is carried in the weather, which is in turn brought down to Earth, it mixes in with nature, and humans consume nature with a passion and zero regrets."

Dean arched an eyebrow at that, "And you're telling me they can't sense this? They don't realize they've just swallowed a chunk of Encyclopedia Angelica?

"I said the information has a sort of physical presence," Gabriel reminded him lightly, "that means to some extent it follows along the same patterns that any other Earthly entity would."

"You mean it's biodegradable," Sam helped to point out, "so these people are ingesting the information?"

Gabriel nodded, "It gets into their system, messes with their head, suddenly you have someone that's 'dying' to write a story based on some random idea they have. If you think about it, in a twisted kind of way, it's like the Matrix."

"I don't see how," Dean commented flippantly, "those movies left me brain-tied and I still think they made more sense than _this_."

"Which is exactly why humans are not supposed to learn about the Truth," Gabriel replied almost mockingly, "it's too much for them to handle."

"Are there ways of telling when the information touches the ground?" Sam asked, "There must be some kind of sign right?"

Gabriel shrugged, "Rainbows...mostly...lightning strikes have been known to do it. Heavy rain, hurricanes, tornados, etc. There's no set method for it, it happens when it happens."

"Does it affect animals?" It was Dean's turn to ask a question, "I mean if humans can ingest it, animals can too right?"

"You ever hear these stories about the 'hero animals?" Gabriel asked, "Sometimes you'll catch wind of some animal that did something strangely heroic or something that would be beyond the limited abilities of any animals to do. That's a drop of the Truth in them."

Sam frowned even more, "How does it work exactly?"

"Part of the physical traits of the information includes stimulation in the neural firings in the brain," Gabriel pointed at his own head with a twirl of his finger, almost like the 'cuckoo' gesture people would make to indicate when something was crazy. "It's only temporary of course, eventually it'll fade away, and it only works for that specific bit of information."

"Jesus this is messed up," Dean straightened and started pacing the living room, "Who else knows about all this?"

"The angels of course," Gabriel confirmed, "which...sadly...includes..."

"Cas" Dean had reached the window, arms parallel with this sides, so still as he stared at the world that lay just outside. There was a brief pause, then he turned his head slightly to indicate his directing his next question to Gabriel, "Can he find us?"

"Chances are he may already have, but who knows?" Gabriel shifted gears in an attempt to reassure them, "See I chose this world because it's basically unknown to either of you, and would be almost a complete unknown to him. I figured by the time he managed to sniff a fresh trail I could move you some place else."

"You mean keep running?" Dean turned around to face him, there was a flicker of flame in his eyes, as though he were pondering a great battle to come. "Just dodge him left and right until whatever world we're in kills us? That is, if _he_ doesn't kills us first."

"Either you run...or you face him...and believe me that's not a good idea," Gabriel warned him, "especially now that he's all jacked up on soul power."

"I don't like running," Dean pointed out, the flicker of flame was gradually becoming a bonfire. He was getting worked up for sure. "I like it even less than surrendering to some supernatural nut-job."

"How do you plan on fighting him? Hmm?" Gabriel sat up straight, "With that angel blade Sam used to stab him in the back? And how well did _that _work out?" he glanced between the two of them, as though expecting an answer, but he continued. "Apparently it wasn't a swell idea, since I had to snatch the three of you out of there and zap you _here _for your own safety."

"Which brings me to a more disturbing question," Dean leaned his hands against the counter, looking Gabriel in the eye. "Why all of a sudden, after the oh-so-many hundred chances you had to pop up, did you wait until Hell _really _came down to Georgia before you decided it was a good time to step in? Tell me."

Gabriel was silent, returning Dean's obvious glare with one of his own, neither one moved as they continued their silent stand-off. Sam was curious as to Gabriel's explanation for his long absence, but after two years of wondering, knowing what kind of person he was, after a while it was best not to dwell on it any longer.

"You've had plenty of opportunities to show up on a white horse, but why now?" Dean continued to pressure him, "what's different this time?"

Gabriel's eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch, as though he were desperately trying to avoid any excessive amounts of sarcasm, "Do you have _any idea _what would happen if Cas came to this world?"

The boys were silent, consenting to avoid answering the question for want of Gabriel's answer instead.

"Imagine what would happen if he came here...and found out about the Stone."

The Philosopher's Stone, the one thing that stood between the Elric's and their future. Cas would want it? But of course, the Stone was powered by...

"Souls," Sam replied, his voice small with the enormity of this newfound truth. "The Stone is powered by human sacrifice...and the most powerful part of the human body is..."

"The soul," Dean finished for him, trading in his fiery ready-to-rumble stance for a more serious one. "If he sucks in any more juice...he'll become Crazy Train."

"And then some," Gabriel pointed out, "he would become more powerful than anyone...or any_thing_ we've ever seen. More powerful than Daddy Dearest."

"What...do you think...he'd want to do with that kind of power?" Sam was almost afraid to ask, this was bigger than they'd ever anticipated. Bigger than even God it seemed.

"Rule the numerous kingdoms I guess," Gabriel replied, his tone implying that the information was overwhelming for him as well, and he was an archangel. "He could enslave all the universes with the kind of power he would gain."

"But only if he can get a hold of it," Sam reminded him, "we can't say for sure that he even knows about this world, much less that _we're_ here."

"We also can't say for sure that he hasn't already figured out how to find you either, but that's not our biggest problem," Gabriel sobered up even more, "the real question is, how do we stop him?"

"Well the angel blades are a bust," Dean pointed out the obvious. "So that leaves us with...what?"

The room was silent for moment, each one calculating all possible options, before Sam finally broke the trance with a twist.

"The Philosopher's Stone"

Both Dean and Gabriel turned to stare at him in bewilderment, Dean merely made a face while Gabriel commented with a shake of his head followed by "I was afraid you'd say that."

"The _Stone_?" Dean finally found his voice again, "Use the _Stone_? Sammy are you nuts?" He held out both hands as though he had nothing to offer, "How do you figure something like that huh? It's _insane_."

"I didn't say it was the smartest choice," he replied with a touch of defensiveness, "but it is the best option we have."

"Who's to say we don't have other options? We haven't even tried to look just yet," Dean countered, willing Sam to see reason but the younger Winchester had made up his mind.

"There is no other way Dean. Cas wants that Stone, it's the only thing that stands between him, and whatever kind of Hell he plans to unleash. But if we can get to it first..." Sam shook his head slightly, as though coming to terms with the intensity of the plan, "It's better if we get a hold of it than him. We can use it to overpower him somehow."

"Let's back-up a bit here okay? You said use it, Sam we don't even know _how _to use is?," Dean was desperate for a loophole out of this plan.

"Alchemy is what makes it right?" Sam offered in explanation, "so Alchemy has to be how to use it."

Dean shook his head before turning around to resume his pacing, all the while muttering curses under his breath, kicking a piece of furniture or two, before burying his face in his hands and dragging them down across his cheeks in emphasis of his stress. All the while Sam waited patiently for him to come to terms with the idea, and Gabriel merely grinned in amusement with Dean's reactions as though he still didn't quite understand the way humans typically were.

"Alright," Dean finally concurred, "alright we'll jump on this Stone mission bandwagon. But I am NOT going to be the one to use it. But tell me this though," a grave expression came over him, "the stone requires human sacrifice...are you sure you're up for that?"

Sam didn't respond right away, he hadn't thought out the details just yet, only the bigger points on the list, the greatest of them being to get to the Stone before Cas. The rest would have to come later. He shrugged, "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it I guess."

Dean looked as though he wanted to counter him, but he didn't have the heart to. Instead he simply nodded, "Well...let's go get this Stone then."


	18. Coming Down

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

Sam was surprised the entire population of Central couldn't hear Ed's sudden outburst, what with the dramatic decibal level he was using. He'd just returned from his strange trip, having been gone for a few days, only to find what remained of his brother on the floor...literally.

They were back at the hotel again, hunters, alchemists, foreigners, and one gearhead all in one room together. This could be the beginning of a new reality show Sam thought amusingly.

"I'm sorry brother..." Al began but Edward's flabbergasted state wouldn't allow for any immediate follow-up explanations at the moment.

"You!...What?...How are you _this beat up_?" He stammered on, unable to formulate a proper sentence what with how shocked he was to see his younger brother missing an arm, and the lower half of his "face". Edward was on the verge of the same kind of rage Sam had witnessed back in Lior when the young alchemist was facing what remained of Father Cornello after his Stone had turned to dust. He just hoped the kid didn't attempt to punch anyone over this.

"And you!" Ed turned to face the Xing-ese man and his friend in the mask, fixing them with a childlike glare as he pointed accusingly. "What the hell are you two doing here!?"

The foreigner, or Ling as he was known, and his companion were busy stuffing their face with room service dinner delights when the question came to light, so Ling's mouth was full when he answered cheekily, "Eating a delicious dinner."

Edward's response was to kick both of them out of the room and slam the door in their faces.

"Seriously," he returned to Al and began inspecting the damage to his brother's armor, "how did this happen to you?"

Al sighed, so did Sam and Dean. It was the kind of sigh that felt almost mandatory to use before a long explanation, and a tiring one at that. Al ran through a quick summary from his point of view, with Sam inserting some bits and pieces here and there based on his perspective, both with Dean and the Colonel, all the while Ed listened, assembling his brothers broken pieces as he did so.

"A Homunculus and Barry the Chopper," he commented as he placed Al's parts in their respective points of attachment, "just to put the cherry on top you find out your body may reject your soul." He stood back a bit, surveying his prep-handy work, before clapping his hands together, the tiny impact of metal-to-flesh making that _ping _sound Sam had become so familiar with. "I'm gonna have to extend what little you have left of your armor," as he spoke the ribbon-like threads of blue light flickered and danced around Al, his armor molding and reshaping as his former figure was restored. When the task was done Ed stepped away, breathing a small sigh of relief, while Al arose to his feet and began testing his limbs to make sure they were working just fine.

While Al continued his personal inspection Edward turned to face the Winchesters, "Anything else I should know about? Or have we covered everything?"

Sam wasn't sure if this was his way of double-checking the given information, or if he still had his suspicions about the two of them, either way it wasn't necessarily a good idea to mention that an archangel was on Team Stone Finders. Just as well, Gabriel had made a special request a moment prior to his departure from the Pink House right after the boys had announced their need to go visit the Elric's in regards to this newfound goal they had of getting their hands on the Philosopher's Stone.

"Keep your traps shut about me for now okay kids?" He'd winked at the two of them just before pulling an angel-Houdini act and teleporting god-only-knew-where.

Out of respect for him, and the sheer fact that Ed was more-or-less an atheist that wouldn't believe in angels, the boys had resolved to keep quiet about their secret celestial weapon...for now.

What made matters even worse? Cas was an angel, and a huge threat to this world if he ever found out Gabriel had dropped them off here. Not to mention what would happen if he found out about the Stone, so that was going to make it difficult for them to get their hands on it, especially if the Elric's were in hot persuit of it first. The Winchester's would simply have to play shotgun for now.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing you haven't already heard," he added just to pacify Ed, "the good news is those Homunculus bastards are not invincible, at least that'll play in our favor if we ever cross paths again."

"Let's just make sure we have a few blowtorches on our hands when we do," Dean pointed out, "damn I wish I could learn Flame Alchemy, that is _badass_. Any chance of us learning that stuff kid?"

Ed ignored the "kid" comment. Either he wasn't in the mood for arguing with Dean or he just didn't care, Sam wasn't sure. "Not a chance in hell," the young Alchemist replied calmly, "otherwise more people would've flocked to Central in the hopes of learning."

Which was as close as he would ever get to giving the Colonel an actual compliment, Sam thought.

Winry had been silent for the most-part, listening patiently to the four of them chatter amongst themselves the way men did. But she broke her silent streak with a single question, "Ed...he'll be able to get his body back...right?" naturally in regards to Al.

"Yeah, of course he will," Edward said firmly, slightly confused that she would ask such a thing. "I told you I'm gonna get it back." That seemed to be all the reassuring she needed, which was evident in the immediate lift at the corners of her mouth.

"Speaking of which," Dean, who had been leaning against the wall as the evening had progressed, straightened up to walk around the couch. "We need to talk," he sat down, elbows resting against his knees, hands together. "This little quest of yours? Getting your body's back and all that jazz? We officially want in." He nodded to Sam in reference to the "we" part, more out of habit than actual need to specify what he meant.

"Funny," Ed sat down on the couch across from him, lounging slightly with his arm across the back, "I would've thought you'd already joined in, considering how often you end up around every corner while we're working."

"We thought it might be best to see what you thought about it," Sam pointed out, moving to sit on the arm on the other end of the same couch where Ed sat. He watched Ed's face, trying to decipher his expressions, but the young Alchemist appeared stoic. However his eyes were thoughtful, in the end he sighed.

"I can't exactly tell you no," he replied, lowering his head and closing his eyes, as though a heavy weight had suddenly settled upon him. "If you decide to tag along it'll be your choice, but..." he opened his eyes and glanced at the both of them, his tone suddenly serious, "don't say you weren't warned of what lies ahead. The way things have gone lately I can't imagine it getting any better. But I have to ask," he turned to look at Sam, "...why?"

Sam had been wracking his brain for some time, trying to think of an excuse good enough that would satisfy Edward's suspicion but would still keep them from exposing themselves. He'd spent his entire life learning how to lie, made quite the career of it...but...this time the truth held a little more ground. The truth was a more useful tactic.

The answer was so simple it was almost too easy.

"Well..." he began, trying to find the right words, "we were thinking...if it's possible...maybe we'll figure out how to get home."

There must've been something in his eyes that validated the declaration, for Ed's subtle suspicion was very short-lived, and the tiniest lift occurred on one side of his mouth. He understood the need for home, he must miss his own home from time to time, even though it was now burned to the ground, which was more or less the same for Sam and Dean.

"Far be it for me to get in the way of that," Ed finally replied, he looked Sam in the eye, "if it's within my power I'll help you find a way home."

Perhaps it was Ed's way of repaying them for their "services" to the great Stone quest, or perhaps the young Alchemist figured the sooner they were out of the picture the better, either way Sam was glad he was on their side without feeling obligated. Apparently Dean was happy too, he was doing that mouth-shrug he usually did when he was onboard with something unusual or out-of-character for him.

"Well I guess if you're going to be a part of this full-time you should know something," Edward's smile disappeared the second he started speaking again, his tone returning to the same seriousness he'd fixed on Sam just a moment ago. He sighed, and turned to face his brother, "Al...I've got to tell you something. I dug up the body that we transmuted in Risembool."

Al, who at some point had actually sat down to listen to their conversation, suddenly jumped back to his feet. "What? Why would you do that?" he demanded to know, looking at his brother with what Sam could only guess was utter disbelief...and maybe a tiny bit of disgust. It was hard to tell with his metal face.

"Because Al," Ed remained calm as he spoke, "I found out that the thing we buried wasn't really our mother."

The shock from that bit of news was enough to knock Al back into a sitting position, while Sam and Dean frowned at Ed. Grave desecration was sort of their forte, so hearing about a dug-up body was nothing new. But to find out that it wasn't their mother after all?

This was definitley a new category of weird.

"But...hold on a minute," Al placed his hands on either side of his head, trying to process the information. "Then that means..."

"The thing we made...I don't know what...but it was something completely different," Ed continued, leaning forward slightly as he placed his hands together.

"But if it wasn't...than what happened to me?" Al's voice was on the verge of reaching that pre-panic high-pitched stage that kids sometimes did.

"That's just it," Edward pointed out, "this has actually convinced me we can return you to normal."

"You got that from a pseudo-corpse?" Dean replied, using only a touch of sarcasm. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah...but..." Ed began to explain, "before I start explaining how...well...uh..." the next part appeared to be a bit embarrassing for him to ask. "Winry...do um...eh...do you remember when Al and I got in a fight when we were kids about...who would marry you?"

Dean had to stifle a laugh, but just barely, and only because Sam had shot him a glare knowing his brother would make a joke about this.

"Huh?" Al replied, "The fight we were talking about on the roof?"

"Yeah, that one," Ed confirmed, his embarrassment having lessened a fraction or two. He continued to question Winry, "Al told me you turned him down," it sounded more like an accusation rather than a simple fact.

"Mhmm," Winry nodded, her hands clasped behind her back, her face neutral. "Turned you both down."

"Ouch," Dean managed to get in, but stopped himself when he saw Sam's face.

"Whatever," Ed continued, "The question's for both of you then: What was your reasoning?"

Al and Winry glanced at each other, seemingly unsure of where this was going. "She said..." Al began, then they both synchronized as they replayed what appeared to be a crucial moment in their childhood, "'I just dont like men who are shorter than me'".

Dean, unable to contain himself any longer, suddenly burst out laughing while Al looked as though he'd just obtained a small victory. Edward on the other hand appeared as though Winry had thrown another wrench at him, "You can't judge a man for something he can't help!" He looked as though he wanted to be angry but his childlike response lessened the integrity of his outburst to a mere whine.

"Uh..." Winry's neutral stance had shifted to a frown, "I don't really see how this has anything to do with getting Al's body back."

Ed instantly sobered up, resting his hands on his knees. "I had to be sure," he explained, "Al had a memory of something I don't recall. You seem to clearly remember it the same way Winry, which means that it happened without a doubt. So... Dean _shut up_...now that we know you remembered something real, than we also know for a fact that really is Al bonded in there...I pulled you out Al...I actually did it. I know it was only your soul, but that's just it...if I was able to pull that much of you out...than I've got a hunch that your body's still in there and I can pull _it _out."

That got Dean to stop laughing.

"You think my body's still in the Portal? Existing seperately from my soul?" Al's voice had a sort of desparation to it, he truly wanted this to be true. He gasped all of a suddenly as a new thought occurred to him, "Like Barry's body!"

"Right!" Ed leaned forward and tapped his metal hand to Al's chestplate, "Now what did you see? Try to think back, can you remember what happened when the Truth unraveled you?"

Al thought for a moment, lost in his recently regained memories, he looked at his brother, "I reached out...and it was _me_...it was _my _hand I grabbed."

"I remember you telling us that before," Sam suddenly intervened, "But I thought you just meant the same as Ed described when the Truth had him. So you really _are _in there huh?" Now it was all starting to make sense, at least Al's part was.

Ed's face broke into a grin, "I knew it! Doesn't look like we're done with the Truth yet Al." He looked at Al, almost proudly, "We're gonna get in there and pull your body out!"

"Brother," Al appeared to suddenly remember something, "After the Portal, I remember looking at you from inside that..._thing_. The thing we thought was mom."

Ed's eyes widened immeasurably, "You were _inside of it_? That thing was _you_?"

"I guess so," Al tried to explain. "But my soul didn't bind, it must've rejected me right away. So that means...we didn't harm anyone else's soul after all."

The room was silent for a moment, then a knock sounded on their room door followed by a muffled "Mr. Elric? You have a telephone call from Izumi Curtis.".

_****NS****_

While Ed went downstairs, Sam asked Winry if she would allow he and his brother to speak to Al alone. She seemed hesitant at first, there was a flicker of suspicion in her eyes, as though she believed they may try something sinister with the youngest Elric. But she seemed to have come to the conclusion that if they had planned on hurting him they would've done so before now. She gave them a small smile, and reached out a hand to Sam, "Thank you for helping them."

Sam returned the favor with a polite smile of his own, "It's no trouble, we're used to these kinds of things...it's more or a less our life in a nutshell."

If she was curious as to what he meant by that she certainly didn't show it. Maybe she was used to strange things happening in or around her life, or maybe she was simply too tired to ask, but in the end she turned and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

The three of them assumed the "serious talk" position of gathering around the table once again, the Winchester's on either side of the youngest Elric.

It was simple: Ed may not be much of a believer in certain things, but that didn't mean Al wouldn't be willing to listen to what they had to say. Everything Ed had talked about for the past hour was reminiscent of the hunter's own experiences with being "out of body" one way or another.

It was time to fill them in a little more.

"Al we need to tell you something," once again Sam was having trouble finding the right words. He had to say it in such a manner so as not to give away too much, but still enough to avoid any holes. "Well...you see...there is such a thing as...resurrection."

Al made a noise similar to a human's small intake of breath, "What do you mean?"

"I'll show you," Sam stood up, turned his back to Al, and lifted the back of his shirt to reveal the scar that ran along his spine. "See that? A man came at me with a knife, stabbed me clear through the spinal cord." He lowered his shirt and continued to stand, looking down at Al as he awaited his reaction.

"But," the young Alchemist was baffled, "a wound like that...you would've died..."

"I did die," Sam lowered himself back to the seat cushion, "Technically I was dead for about a day."

"So...how...?"

"It was me," Dean piped in, "I did something...something you're not supposed to do...and I got him back."

"The reason why we're telling you this," Sam explained, "the things you and your brother keep saying...about the transmutation...about your mother...the thing is we've seen things like this happen before...with our job...and I'm telling it is possible. Yes there are consequences, depending on how you do it...but it's _still possible_.)

Al glanced between the two of them, "You expect me to believe this? People die, that's the end of it...if we continue to try and think that it's possible to bring the dead back to life than all of the torment we went through...with the transmutation...would mean _nothing_."

"I know it sounds crazy," Sam tried to reason with him, "but think about it Al. If it's possible to bring your body back from some place that exists outside of space and time, outside of this _world_, isn't it possible that the reverse is true? If I died againd, and my body was still on Earth, intact and everything, wouldn't that mean that my soul could be retrieved from wherever it was during that time?"

He knew what he was saying would challenge everything Ed and Al believed in, that it could quite possibly stunt their chances of working together if the Elric's believed they were "too crazy" to put up with, but things were starting to hit too close to home for the two hunters. A lot of what they'd been hearing lately sounded so familiar, so similar to their own predicaments, it was almost scary. It was like they were in an episode of the _Twilight Zone_: two sets of brothers, each having lost a mother, an absent father, evil forces at work, sacrifices made to bring a brother back to life. Every day that Sam realized how alike their families were drew him closer and closer to realizing...it was almost as though they were exact copies of each other, like the Portal had leaked some form of the Elric's onto the real world, Earth, and the Winchesters came to life.

Or maybe it wasn't that after all. Sam was still trying to figure this whole thing out.

But they needed an ally, someone they could trust with the kind of information they knew, and who better to choose than the one person Sam felt he could relate to the most?

Al was silent for a moment, processing Sam's words. Then he stood up and moved to walk out the door. If he was angry or just motivated it was hard to tell, either way the Winchester's were quick to follow him, down the hall, down the stairs and into the front desk area where Ed had just hung up the phone, looking confused.

"So what did Teacher have to say?" Al asked him as he approached.

"Well...I'm not really sure why," Ed replied, "but she said...'thank you'." He walked up to his brother and tapped a metal fist against his breastplate, let's head back up okay?"

Sam half expected Al to blurt out something in regards to what Sam and Dean had told him moments ago, but he remained silent as they filed their way towards the stairs. Two flights up, and Al suddenly stopped, his head bent slightly forward, lost in thought. Ed recognized the halting sound by the lack of clanking noises Al's armor made as he walked. He'd just begun ascending another set of stairs when he turned to face his brother, "Al?"

Al glanced up, "This entire time...I've been blaming myself for what happened." His glove-hands clenched into fists that started to shake, "I thought it was _me_...I thought I was the one who killed mom a second time..."

"So did I, Al" Edward admitted, his face full of subtle despair.

Al burried his face into his hands, "Thanks brother...thank you." His voice was cracking as he spoke, "I wasn't the one who killed mom after all."

"But still..." Edward pointed out, "none of this changes the fact that I'm the one who put you in that body. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to make you normal again."

"Brother," Al said firmly, lowering his hands to his sides where they returned to their clenched position, "I was right there with you, and I knew that there were risks. So quit trying to shoulder all of this on your own...I can't watch you suffer like this...not on your own...I can't just stand back and watch other people get hurt over what I've done. Like what happened to Mr. Hughes..." his fists were shaking again, "I felt like it was my fault when I found out he was dead, and I told myself that if it meant other people getting hurt I don't even _want _my body back."

Edward was speechless for the moment, his only submission to Al's epiphany was to nod in agreement.

"Brother," Al continued, "I've met other people who weren't exactly human. But they still managed to live their lives with a purpose. And even in this body, it hasn't stopped other people from treating me like I'm still human. This body could reject me at any time, but it's the same with being human. You never know when you might get sick, or die in an accident." He paused for a moment, looking down at his hands, "I can still get by like this. I can live a somewhat normal life. And that's how I've managed to keep going, but now...I can't take it anymore!...Because..." his voice broke again, "...I can't...I can't take all the nights by myself! It's too lonely, and that's why I _have _to get back to normal!"

Ed had begun to descend back down the stairs, his face smooth up until the end of Al's speech, then his eyebrows bent downward in determination, and that familiar grin came into play. "Sure, and you're going to," he placed a metal fist on the "tip" of Al's breastplate, then he glanced at the hunters, "so...are you in?"

There wasn't a chance in hell that they would pass this up, not this far in the game.

Dean returned Ed's victorious grin with a sly one of his own, "Damn straight, Fullmetal. Lead the way."

Ed didn't need much encouragement, he was already pumped, turning on his heel and bounding up the stairs, the other three following right after, back to the hotel room.

"We'll knock that Truth jerk on his butt!" Ed had a way with battle speeches, "And then we're gonna pull your body right outta that place!"

"Yeah!" Al confirmed with equal enthusiasm, the clanking sounds from his armor echoing wildly through the halls. He stopped for a moment on the stairs, motioning for Dean to keep going, the older Winchester continued past both him and Sam, allowing them a moment.

"You said the dead can come back to life," Al whispered to Sam, "if that's true...can you help get my body back as well?"

"We'll sure as hell try," Sam reassured him, "but we'll need the right tools."

Al glanced toward the top of the stairs, listening to Dean and Ed's return to the room, Ed's muffled voice, but Al's thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. He turned back to Sam, "If it comes down to it...if Ed can't get my body back...do you know a way to do it?"

Sam didn't respond right away, the "way" in which he himself could do it would require performing certain tasks he'd promised a long time ago that he'd never attempt ever again...but...maybe...this was Al after all.

"I know a way," Sam nodded, "but it won't necessarily be easy."

"Hey you two, get in here!" Dean shouted from above, his head peering over the bannister at the top of the steps.

Al and Sam immediately moved to join the others, not wanting Ed to get too suspicious about their being secretive about something. It was still safer to keep him out of the loop for now, even with this new revelation about souls and bodies and how they can exist apart from each other. The entirety of it all would still be too much for them.

The four of them gathered together, Winry having returned to the room as well, and began constructing new thoughts.

It was time for a plan.

_****NS****_

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?! HOW COULD YOU LET THAT BASTARD GO AFTER WHAT HE DID!?"

When Envy became furious his "hair" seemed to flair out more than usual, like the leaves of a palm tree fanning out in the wind, but it still wasn't enough to stir Wrath into concern for his own safety against the "deadliest" of their group. "YOU SHOULD'VE YANKED HIS SPINE OUT OF HIS MOUTH!"

They had once again returned to the dark bowels of their hideout, Wrath residing at the bottom of the stairs, sword in hand, while Envy and Gluttony remained on the staircase behind him. Gluttony whimpered and cried, murmuring Lust's name to himself as he grieved for his dearest companion, "he killed Lust."

"It's not too late to kill him, so GET TO IT!" Envy practically spat in Wrath's direction.

"We can use Mustang," he replied calmly, his dark eyes narrowed as he schemed. "He's worthless if we kill him however."

"Use him?" Envy dialed down his tone upon hearing that. "Hold on, you mean the Portal?"

Wrath chuckled softly, menacingly, "You don't need to worry about it, and forget Mustang. Father wants _me _to handle him."

Envy growled a bit, "And those two boys? Surely Father has something special in mind for _them_."

"They're role is even more important," Wrath explained. "After all, we get those boys...we get _him_."


	19. PLEASE READ, IT'S IMPORTANT

Just writing this is making me cringe, because my OCD was triggered into aggressive mode just recently and I'm going to go ahead and apologize for the following:

One of the setbacks of having taking a "vacation" of sorts from writing this fic apparently includes the fact that I not only forgot certain details but that I also (accidentally) re-wrote some of the same things for two different chapters.

I am planning on re-reading through the story again and trying to fix all the little problems (Especially the more recently published ones), this may require just pulling the entire story for now until I can get the entire thing fixed, have it done all at once, and the repost it as soon as possible.

Or I could just pull the problem chapters (which are only about three I think) and fix those, so you guys don't feel as though you have to re-read the entire story. (I promise you the important parts that you'll need to re-read just to "upgrade" what you know based on each chapter only includes chapters 16 and up, the other aforementioned "errors" I want to fix with the previous chapters are merely typos that I didn't notice before and are now tickeling my OCD side something FIERCE)

I'll leave it up to you guys on what you'd rather do, but either way I'm going to do the pull all at once, instead of doing it chapter by chapter, fix the serious problems altogether, and repost them altogether. I'm letting you decide on whether or not you want me to do just the problem chapters or fix the entire story and be done with it.

Please message me/Leave a review telling me what you think.


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